Paroles de la chanson We Think So Ill of You par Sprain
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Paroles de la chanson We Think So Ill of You par Sprain
The Lamb as effigy sighs
“I can't believe it! All my birthdays, thoughts, and ass burnt to ashes! The critique does not exclude me! I've become
The anathema!”
Intimately wed to concept over practice
The joke goes over my head but I am still laughing at it
In the interest of impressions
The winking bit of your balancing act
Makes a fool of my wire affairs
They all see my hand in my pants
Point and laugh at idle steers
As if the flies don't, on us too, land
Flesh is flesh
“I can't believe it! All my birthdays, thoughts, and ass burnt to ashes! The critique does not exclude me! I've become
The anathema!”
Intimately wed to concept over practice
The joke goes over my head but I am still laughing at it
In the interest of impressions
The winking bit of your balancing act
Makes a fool of my wire affairs
They all see my hand in my pants
Point and laugh at idle steers
As if the flies don't, on us too, land
Flesh is flesh
And you are speaking to me and I am nodding my head
I have so carefully adorned value upon the space between us
Something peeping toms the words
To hang a price tag on our interactions
And you just killed me off in the film that you're directing
And we both smile and nod as I achieve erection
I survived the initial crash
But was smothered by the airbag
Point and laugh at idle steers
As if the flies don't, on us too, land
Flesh is flesh
A picture painted in my mind of you reclining nude
With obscured intentions
Set in bronze
Imagine this:
I'm the guest on some obscene talk show
In a cell of moral compromise
The audience is made up of everyone that I have ever met in my entire life
Every sin I've ever committed is put up on display by screens hung around the stage
And we watch
The host says “I now present to you an elaborate choreography of failure!”
The audience erupts with seemingly coordinated jets of jargon laughter
Ha Ha Ha!
“Shame on you!”
Set in bronze
Imagine this:
I'm the guest on some obscene talk show
In a cell of moral compromise
The audience is made up of everyone that I have ever met in my entire life
Every sin I've ever committed is put up on display by screens hung around the stage
And we watch
The host says “I now present to you an elaborate choreography of failure!”
The audience erupts with seemingly coordinated jets of jargon laughter
Ha Ha Ha!
“Shame on you!”
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