Hidden At Home

(альбом: Days N' Daze / Arroyo Deathmatch - 2012)

Little boy so scared and selfish
Blocking off our every exit
Cowering inside these white white walls
Formed into the ground he's kneeling
Scratching out his every feeling
Screaming prayers out to every God

But the gods they never answer him
Cause none of them exist
Their stories paid in blood
Rewritten and retold
There's no one there to help you
When your suffering and broken
You better learn to fucking cope
All on your own

His lovers throat it moves inside
It moves inside his sleep
And so he sleeps to find
The sweetness when she speaks in lullabies

He comes back to the world he finds
His lovers frigid throat is silent
And he makes noises he can't recognize

But the gods they never answer him
Cause none of them exist
Their stories paid in blood
Rewritten and retold
There's no one there to help you
When your suffering and broken
You better learn to fucking cope
All on your own

The boy now man has pieces left to find
And once he does he swears to bind them back
As they once were so pure
He slays the wants of habits born
Emerges from behind locked doors
With no mind for letting go

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

This is not what I was looking for
A tragedy of some sort

This is not what I was looking for
A tragedy of some sort

A wind a wanders lonely
And chills a poor man's spine
I mourn sleeping body of that love
So fair of mine
She sang so sweet a fable
Of together growing old
Now I weep into the satin
Where my sweethearts sleeping cold
We left one hundred cities
I left one hundred blind
But now I see so clearly
That love so fair mine
Though smoke and wine do comfort
My weary yawning soul
The sun does never warm me
When my sweethearts sleeping cold