|
Tear off the roof, let in the sky |
|
Take the shutters from our eyes |
|
Pull back the curtains to these lives |
|
Behind these windows are pigs and sties |
|
But just seconds from where they stand |
|
A dying world of throats and hands |
|
But just seconds from where they stand |
|
A dying world of throats and hands |
|
Kissed with blood, kissed with bile |
|
With these fingers murder dialled |
|
With broken hearts and broken smiles |
|
We spurt blood on white tiles |
|
But just seconds from where they stand |
|
A dying world of throats and hands |
|
But just seconds from where they stand |
|
A dying world of throats and hands |
|
I am dying in your eyes |
|
Grow a harvest for the scythe |
|
Follow a long shot to the street |
|
Where the real world meets and bleats |
|
But just seconds from where they stand |
|
A dying world of throats and hands |
|
But just seconds from where they stand |
|
A dying world of throats and hands |
