| Touch the shell
|
| Only traces remain like a strain on the bed post
|
| Where I lay, chamber fades
|
| Second stage, I am tied to this venom
|
| I feel it compressing
|
| They call it a blessing, I call it my grave
|
| I latched to a heart so clinical
|
| I was alive to fight
|
| It feels unnecessary
|
| Pressure is a mortuary
|
| I lost static like a ritual
|
| I was alive to fight
|
| It feels unnecessary
|
| Pressure is a mortuary
|
| I feel it compressing
|
| They call it a blessing, I call it my grave
|
| I feel a darkness
|
| Survive off my beating heart
|
| I was alive when the sun went down
|
| I was alive when the sun went down
|
| I feel a darkness
|
| Survive off my beating heart
|
| I was alive when the sun went down
|
| I was alive when the sun went down
|
| And when you’re touching a lie, are you thinking of me?
|
| I know I’m scratching a lie, and I’m finding a thief
|
| I was alive when the sun went down
|
| I was alive when the sun went down
|
| I was alive
|
| All the lies, all the shame
|
| Cleanliness washed away
|
| Chamber fades in this venom too late
|
| For once I was alive
|
| I was alive, I was alive
|
| I was alive
|
| I latched to a heart so clinical
|
| I was alive to fight
|
| It feels unnecessary
|
| Pressure is a mortuary
|
| I lost static like a ritual
|
| I was alive to fight
|
| It feels unnecessary
|
| Pressure is a mortuary
|
| I feel it compressing
|
| They call it a blessing, I call it a grave |