|
Oh, it touches, itches, bites, and wastes the time |
|
Trying not to be in love with what is mine |
|
With sirens singing |
|
All the big things that we hate, we cry about |
|
Will turn to gold if we just leave them out |
|
Then let's hope |
|
His silence |
|
Is with us tonight |
|
I'll bring |
|
The camera |
|
Can you hold the light? |
|
The dusty pages of the book that wakes the dead |
|
Say don't hold dear the times that we once had |
|
It's a pleasure hoping for the things to come |
|
A little patience and the blood will run |
|
Then let's hope |
|
His silence |
|
Is with us tonight |
|
I'll bring |
|
The poison |
|
Can you bring the knife? |