| Tourniquet the wound that is my body on this earth
|
| A few spins around, less a gift, more a curse
|
| Yeah
|
| Tourniquet the wound that is my body on this earth
|
| A few spins around, less a gift, more a curse
|
| Particular fissures reframed in the mind
|
| Too fucked to live, too bitter to die
|
| Exposed, I know the bone
|
| So holy in its tone
|
| A weakness skin deep
|
| But it still makes me bleed
|
| This is the shape and the point of the tooth
|
| Dripping with distaste
|
| Leading straight, straight to you
|
| Oh, and it tears at my face
|
| The thought of your veins leading into nothing
|
| Yeah
|
| Tourniquet the wound that is my body on this earth
|
| A few spins around, less a gift, more of a fucking cunt
|
| Particular fissures reframed in the mind
|
| Too fucked to live, too bitter to die
|
| I learned a lot about friends
|
| With a blade in the back of my head
|
| I learned a lot about my enemies
|
| When I realised even I got the best of me
|
| Pull out the shrapnel and stitch the lesion
|
| And under the sun
|
| And under the sun, wings of wax melt shut
|
| You know what it takes
|
| (The bitter taste)
|
| The bitter taste
|
| Caught in a flesh prison of disgrace
|
| I hold a gun to the leech as it screams for the warmth of my cold fucking soul
|
| As it’s taken its hold
|
| Fuck the leech
|
| As it screams for my soul
|
| Fuck the leech
|
| As it screams for my soul |