War For The Crippled
(专辑: The Confessions Of Mr. Modest - 2009)
I
scale the
razor while I
rope over the
dead space and arrows sticking out that bullseye tattooed on my breastplate I'm high flying, tasting the
poison on the
clouds breath, a
little bit too nervous just to follow when that crowds steps I
break, break, into little tiny pieces and vanish and you can take, take all the
memories and make patterns of em And say, say, that you'll never think about me when they ask And if they don't look like they trust you can turn around and dash And this is awful to say but I
don't think you ever needed me That tooth was through your lip before you ever started eating me Beating it downs not what you need to be taught here, I'm beggin you just to stop for a
little bit And let that broken record play for you And you can smell the
smoke from all the
pain it took to lay it's groove And fall into that place where you can die from it or face the
truth It's silly, 'cause I
all see is danger when I
lay with you You know I'm available when The
voices start talking and saying I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun, and sorrow is a
cold jagged blade I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun, and sorrow is a
cold jagged blade I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun and I
got it torn and it aimed at your face How come your eyes hurt me so bad? Mirrors or windows? can you feel that? how would you describe that? I
fear I'm too simple. How come your hands are so, so cold? My skin or yours? no circulation, heavy pulse I
fear with every use to me my aneurism now That caution so convincing, fully engage the
arm hairs, dries out the
mouth It's alkaline, count the
cate, that courage, that now's the
time That head devise, spin, spin, with a
big fake grin and the
skin gettin thicker by the
blink Know the
ill by the
stink and the
length of the
beard Know the
real by the
stare and the
feel way Know the
real by the
gut, know to seal your convictions with steel Know steal by how it stings your feelings, no further advice No cure for the
vice, no feelings searing like spice in a
con life With the
fears like contacts and never call any backs, what's up And I
feel foul 'bout it, but so much lighter 'bout it, right? I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun, and sorrow is a
cold jagged blade I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun, and sorrow is a
cold jagged blade I
know they say happiness is a
warm gun and I
got it torn and it aimed at your face