Johnny Truant - A Day In The Death
Sniffing glue from the whores tusk let the wax drip through the creases
Oil, dripped from the devils back?
Stealing kisses from butterflies but perverts complete the sequence
Raw, cocaine filled up their hearts
On Sunday nights they feast on blood before delicate poets release their lungs
Everytime It kills me, the oxes flesh rots on so slowly
Magnets in the pigeon feed, a devil inside the chamber breeds
Black daggers and sharper knives, the bees amass within their hives
A sharpened hand and a wooden glance?We'll taste and scrape!
A day in the death calls for you
A day in the death speaks for you
Yeah, would you give back to heart, I'm bored of promises, I'm cut to pieces
Yeah, would you grant me just one wish, its true we've sacrificed for the never
*Oh*, the priest had a vultures grin, as he drank from the blood of the bastard
christ
There's something in the air, violins and burning blisters
A burning rash that sticks to the prince's bitter features
Will the crow grant a second wish to its children?
If our politics are locked in foam?
Day I Die
Day I Die
Without precious weapons we'd go far
Back to when the world was just a star
If we were the killer
The pressure would be more than I could feel.
Day I Die
Day I Die
The day I die
The day I die
Oil, dripped from the devils back?
Stealing kisses from butterflies but perverts complete the sequence
Raw, cocaine filled up their hearts
On Sunday nights they feast on blood before delicate poets release their lungs
Everytime It kills me, the oxes flesh rots on so slowly
Magnets in the pigeon feed, a devil inside the chamber breeds
Black daggers and sharper knives, the bees amass within their hives
A sharpened hand and a wooden glance?We'll taste and scrape!
A day in the death calls for you
A day in the death speaks for you
Yeah, would you give back to heart, I'm bored of promises, I'm cut to pieces
Yeah, would you grant me just one wish, its true we've sacrificed for the never
*Oh*, the priest had a vultures grin, as he drank from the blood of the bastard
christ
There's something in the air, violins and burning blisters
A burning rash that sticks to the prince's bitter features
Will the crow grant a second wish to its children?
If our politics are locked in foam?
Day I Die
Day I Die
Without precious weapons we'd go far
Back to when the world was just a star
If we were the killer
The pressure would be more than I could feel.
Day I Die
Day I Die
The day I die
The day I die
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