作词 : Jason McGuire/Otep Shamaya/Mark Bistany/Rob Patterson 作曲 : Jason McGuire/Otep Shamaya/Mark Bistany/Rob Patterson Who's there? Who's there? And I remember Flashes of laughter And lunatics Seductive propaganda Scrolling across my mind Like guerrilla cinema. Belts and wooden spoons Flies in the afterbirth And crawling on linoleum kitchens And cracked porcelain sinks stuffed with Dirty dishes. The early morning anxiety of grade-school dark stockings to hide curses. Secret friends and festive holidays And everyone in their Sunday best Pretending to like each other. For generations and generations of Sad mistakes. Stealing away in the dead of night to Escape the stiff jawed henchmen in the hungry trucks Of an angry landlord miles and miles away. Impatient and understanding Waking on the side of the road Hissing radiator hoses cracked like Burned skin. Days so hot the nuclear holocaust would've felt like Siberian blizzard. And I remember The first time I felt it alive inside me Turning the dead weight Moving within the folds of its winged embrace Opening and sliding those black feathers Inches at a time. Those feet Pushing and digging into the membrane To find its comfort or to relieve pressure from one of those stagnant staces Where one of its limbs had gone numb. And I remember night Listening to it hum Feeling it move in its mysteries Cleaning its feathers for hours And I remember this And I know I never had a chance. There's never any escaping it.
作词 : Jason McGuire/Otep Shamaya/Mark Bistany/Rob Patterson 作曲 : Jason McGuire/Otep Shamaya/Mark Bistany/Rob Patterson Who's there? Who's there? And I remember Flashes of laughter And lunatics Seductive propaganda Scrolling across my mind Like guerrilla cinema. Belts and wooden spoons Flies in the afterbirth And crawling on linoleum kitchens And cracked porcelain sinks stuffed with Dirty dishes. The early morning anxiety of grade-school dark stockings to hide curses. Secret friends and festive holidays And everyone in their Sunday best Pretending to like each other. For generations and generations of Sad mistakes. Stealing away in the dead of night to Escape the stiff jawed henchmen in the hungry trucks Of an angry landlord miles and miles away. Impatient and understanding Waking on the side of the road Hissing radiator hoses cracked like Burned skin. Days so hot the nuclear holocaust would've felt like Siberian blizzard. And I remember The first time I felt it alive inside me Turning the dead weight Moving within the folds of its winged embrace Opening and sliding those black feathers Inches at a time. Those feet Pushing and digging into the membrane To find its comfort or to relieve pressure from one of those stagnant staces Where one of its limbs had gone numb. And I remember night Listening to it hum Feeling it move in its mysteries Cleaning its feathers for hours And I remember this And I know I never had a chance. There's never any escaping it.
