It Wasn't White Lyrics
| Song | It Wasn't White |
| Artist | Blue Sky Black Death |
| Album | A Heap Of Broken Images |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| And these thoughts will snare and stretch you, | |
| Until you’re so long, | |
| That no nerve will be able to connect, | |
| Your feet to your head | |
| You will no longer be able to live, | |
| Pulled thinner than angel hair, | |
| Wrenched, so thin, that you have no end | |
| Do not come near my bed | |
| I’m not part of your universe | |
| To that I’m dead | |
| to my hurt | |
| now inconcentrate, | |
| attracts debris, | |
| Which swirls round and round | |
| Things spread from the threshold of seeing, | |
| Towards me | |
| But I’ve got near vision | |
| And I can no longer see those which rule from the far side | |
| Scraps of words, wrap, then numb me | |
| And so I tire | |
| Refuse to bear the weight of air, and | |
| Exhausted, slip into the alternative reality |
| And these thoughts will snare and stretch you, | |
| Until you' re so long, | |
| That no nerve will be able to connect, | |
| Your feet to your head | |
| You will no longer be able to live, | |
| Pulled thinner than angel hair, | |
| Wrenched, so thin, that you have no end | |
| Do not come near my bed | |
| I' m not part of your universe | |
| To that I' m dead | |
| to my hurt | |
| now inconcentrate, | |
| attracts debris, | |
| Which swirls round and round | |
| Things spread from the threshold of seeing, | |
| Towards me | |
| But I' ve got near vision | |
| And I can no longer see those which rule from the far side | |
| Scraps of words, wrap, then numb me | |
| And so I tire | |
| Refuse to bear the weight of air, and | |
| Exhausted, slip into the alternative reality |
| And these thoughts will snare and stretch you, | |
| Until you' re so long, | |
| That no nerve will be able to connect, | |
| Your feet to your head | |
| You will no longer be able to live, | |
| Pulled thinner than angel hair, | |
| Wrenched, so thin, that you have no end | |
| Do not come near my bed | |
| I' m not part of your universe | |
| To that I' m dead | |
| to my hurt | |
| now inconcentrate, | |
| attracts debris, | |
| Which swirls round and round | |
| Things spread from the threshold of seeing, | |
| Towards me | |
| But I' ve got near vision | |
| And I can no longer see those which rule from the far side | |
| Scraps of words, wrap, then numb me | |
| And so I tire | |
| Refuse to bear the weight of air, and | |
| Exhausted, slip into the alternative reality |
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