Selecione o idioma para traduzir esta letra
I wouldn't call it church
The way these spirits work
They draw the sharpest blade
Like an egyptian storm
The kids are fairest born
And the leaves the rest unscathed
Lightly panning down seas
Snapping off the branches of a family tree
But it costs to talk and I can barely make the rent
Excuse me while I drink myself to death
Another peice of mind???
But lately I don't care
Just make a sour face
And pound for pound of waste
The eyes of the world stare
Pointed jokes are wearing thin
Portrait of the artist with his face punched in
A lonely heart is heavy in his hairless chest
Excuse me while I drink myself to death
Damn the weather
Deep sea tides
Mornings after Neverland
A portrait of the artist with the mount hangin'
I had to sue 'em out these vile bowels
To wreck their debts