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Fill their heads with bold assumptions thick with pantomime corruption*
Surely they proved more disruptive than these words are interruptive .
Painted visage veils intention, so I’ve staged this intervention .
Choking now on revelation, gasp for breaths of blind elation .
This is the recipe for breathing fucking fallacies:
A simple blend of fear and misdirection .
Crusted eyelids over every single rod and cone and twinkle in their eyes .
It’s all been written in the scars !
So fuck what you’ve seen
We’re at the end of our rope
Without a second chance to leave a few more feet,
Enough to wrap around tour necks .
We’d hang our bodies from the clouds and tear
What’s left of your paradise down !
This is the recipe for honestly and open sores:
A simple blend of painful complications .
Sick confessions cover every single wave of sound that echoes in my ears .
It’s all recorded in these songs .
So tell me how I’d ever hear these words and I suppose I’ll tell you
where we’ve stashed away those insolent freaks .
Here’s your fucking hint !