Dear Skin 歌词
| 歌曲 | Dear Skin |
| 歌手 | Rozz Williams |
| 专辑 | Whorse's Mouth |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Gaumer, Paris, Williams | |
| Electronic babble | |
| Shove off with thine elastic attitude | |
| You condescending fuck hole, you tiny little prick | |
| You don't have the persuasion to crash down my power of hope with rationalization | |
| Tower of rubble, shovel dirt back in that open hole | |
| My soul residing? Hiding there | |
| A devilish grin of rich desire, more fire devouring flame | |
| And shame on you, rust beggar, the one I've longed for | |
| You splendid whore | |
| No gift perhaps, to reason on the lips of this sad, mad man | |
| Overtaken by a vile dream in which I tumbled to earth on my disassembled feet | |
| And you must not treat me like the others; we are not one in the same | |
| Removed, proved to be of higher honor, least the trumpets wail | |
| Fail to find release from this anchor, rancor of bullshit ties, these drownings | |
| Electronic babble | |
| Tower of rubble shovel dirt back in that open hole | |
| No gift perhaps to reason on the lips of this sad/madman | |
| God forgive my slightly shifting lines in thought disfiguration | |
| Meat as meat defeat the source of that which spurns thee | |
| As for me, do not mistake my misgivings as indifference to this madness that surrounds me | |
| Often time I flee from this torturous mindstyle/deathstyle reunion | |
| Just another onion head | |
| Polished meal of spine structure and jaundiced horns | |
| All the endless fragments of this distorted view of life | |
| My soul, sold My being? Maybe | |
| Toss, turn, burn the smile that tries to waste you | |
| There is no hope in repetative warfare/nightmare but then again, who the fuck am I to care? | |
| Let us take heed of memories foretold, dear skin | |
| King of queens and Knave of nothing, I | |
| Dear skin |
| zuo qu : Gaumer, Paris, Williams | |
| Electronic babble | |
| Shove off with thine elastic attitude | |
| You condescending fuck hole, you tiny little prick | |
| You don' t have the persuasion to crash down my power of hope with rationalization | |
| Tower of rubble, shovel dirt back in that open hole | |
| My soul residing? Hiding there | |
| A devilish grin of rich desire, more fire devouring flame | |
| And shame on you, rust beggar, the one I' ve longed for | |
| You splendid whore | |
| No gift perhaps, to reason on the lips of this sad, mad man | |
| Overtaken by a vile dream in which I tumbled to earth on my disassembled feet | |
| And you must not treat me like the others we are not one in the same | |
| Removed, proved to be of higher honor, least the trumpets wail | |
| Fail to find release from this anchor, rancor of bullshit ties, these drownings | |
| Electronic babble | |
| Tower of rubble shovel dirt back in that open hole | |
| No gift perhaps to reason on the lips of this sad madman | |
| God forgive my slightly shifting lines in thought disfiguration | |
| Meat as meat defeat the source of that which spurns thee | |
| As for me, do not mistake my misgivings as indifference to this madness that surrounds me | |
| Often time I flee from this torturous mindstyle deathstyle reunion | |
| Just another onion head | |
| Polished meal of spine structure and jaundiced horns | |
| All the endless fragments of this distorted view of life | |
| My soul, sold My being? Maybe | |
| Toss, turn, burn the smile that tries to waste you | |
| There is no hope in repetative warfare nightmare but then again, who the fuck am I to care? | |
| Let us take heed of memories foretold, dear skin | |
| King of queens and Knave of nothing, I | |
| Dear skin |
| zuò qǔ : Gaumer, Paris, Williams | |
| Electronic babble | |
| Shove off with thine elastic attitude | |
| You condescending fuck hole, you tiny little prick | |
| You don' t have the persuasion to crash down my power of hope with rationalization | |
| Tower of rubble, shovel dirt back in that open hole | |
| My soul residing? Hiding there | |
| A devilish grin of rich desire, more fire devouring flame | |
| And shame on you, rust beggar, the one I' ve longed for | |
| You splendid whore | |
| No gift perhaps, to reason on the lips of this sad, mad man | |
| Overtaken by a vile dream in which I tumbled to earth on my disassembled feet | |
| And you must not treat me like the others we are not one in the same | |
| Removed, proved to be of higher honor, least the trumpets wail | |
| Fail to find release from this anchor, rancor of bullshit ties, these drownings | |
| Electronic babble | |
| Tower of rubble shovel dirt back in that open hole | |
| No gift perhaps to reason on the lips of this sad madman | |
| God forgive my slightly shifting lines in thought disfiguration | |
| Meat as meat defeat the source of that which spurns thee | |
| As for me, do not mistake my misgivings as indifference to this madness that surrounds me | |
| Often time I flee from this torturous mindstyle deathstyle reunion | |
| Just another onion head | |
| Polished meal of spine structure and jaundiced horns | |
| All the endless fragments of this distorted view of life | |
| My soul, sold My being? Maybe | |
| Toss, turn, burn the smile that tries to waste you | |
| There is no hope in repetative warfare nightmare but then again, who the fuck am I to care? | |
| Let us take heed of memories foretold, dear skin | |
| King of queens and Knave of nothing, I | |
| Dear skin |
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