"Let her nails kiss the pale of your neck
I'm a wreck-ing ma-chine
the first step to feeling
Lips that strike you
numbing sensation we all love
those ghosts of mine scream-ing its time
i'm the quiet edge
there's almost intent
please cure this deafness
let me taste the worst
oh its not the world its just the way twist my words
please cure this deafness
let me taste
it moves in close
give.me a reason
why we should care
when all we do is work
giving time to sentiment could only make things
could only make things woooooorse
it just gets worrrrse
i'm the quiet edge
there's almost intent
please cure this deafness
let me taste the worst
oh its not the world its just the way twist my words
please cure this deafness
let me taste
stop with all the metaphors
indulge your hands with honesty
avante-garde is anything but knowing what you're guaranteed
& being sick and miserable gives you personality
with all words and poetry I still can't feel a god damn thing
stop with all the metaphors
indulge your hands with honesty
and avante-garde is anything but knowing what you're guaranteed
and being sick and miserable gives you personality
cure this deafness
let me taste
stop with all the metaphors
indulge your hands with honesty
cuz avante-garde is anything but knowing what you're guaranteed
& being sick and miserable
it gives you personality
with all words and poetry
I still can't feel a god...... damn.... thing
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