This Blackest Purse-WHY?
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TXT This Blackest Purse-WHY? 文本歌词
This Blackest Purse - WHY?
I'm not who with my eyes from stage I claim to be
I've only cradled death in my own ending flesh
From far off in abstracted lit
Candle wick flickering
And when a thing starts finishing around me
I faint or fake a mustache, an accent or flee
In fear my expired license be pulled by sheer proximity
Fact
The poser in the bowler gets shot first
Thinks he's the sh*t 'cause he can spit and curse
Acting brash and flashing a pistol that squirts
Scowling
And shouting
Shall we dance
Should our hero's hands be holding this blackest purse
Mom am I failing or worse
Mom am I failing
What should these earnest hands be holding
Still sporting my ex-girlfriend's dead
Ex-boyfriend's boxers
I wanna operate from a base of hunger
No longer be ashamed and hide my
Tears in shower water while I
Lather for pleasure
I wanna speak at an intimate decibel
With the precision of an infinite decimal
To listen up and send back a true echo
Of something forever felt but never heard
I want that sharpened steel of truth in every word
The small fry in the bow tie dies first
Acting wild like the spirit of God moving after church
Faking he's hard like packed down dirt
Already
And yelling
Be my guest
Should our hero's hands be holding this blackest purse
Mom am I failing or worse
Mom am I failing
What should these earnest hands be holding
Should our hero's hands be holding this blackest purse
Mom am I failing or worse
Mom am I failing
What should these earnest hands be holding
