Waste of a face never yours for the keeping Slapped across your head Then with what little time remained set out to forget it
Yonder would break days plump with thunder of new and glorious morn Hours would spill souring still despite our adornments for them
all in good time you break before the light so soaked in wine it dries your will to fight but everyday is never enough sucks tucked in the folds of your guts contents of which blaze in your eyes Jesus, I'm drunk on this spirit tonight
---- If only the good ones die young I'd pray your corruption would swift like a thief in the night Right I pluck my right eye right out ----
Yanked from your slumber What ominous portent dangles in your face? Rife with sprites falling on knives crowd into your gaze well sight is a sense and in your defense one I might liken to... the manner in which you touch what you clutch and the that the wind touches you
---- If only the good ones die young I'd pray your corruption would swift like a thief in the night Right I pluck my right eye right out
If only the young ones die good I'd pray your corruption would slip like a slit in the wrist hack the hands, redeem the rest
Waste of a face never yours for the keeping Slapped across your head Then with what little time remained set out to forget it
Yonder would break days plump with thunder of new and glorious morn Hours would spill souring still despite our adornments for them
all in good time you break before the light so soaked in wine it dries your will to fight but everyday is never enough sucks tucked in the folds of your guts contents of which blaze in your eyes Jesus, I'm drunk on this spirit tonight
---- If only the good ones die young I'd pray your corruption would swift like a thief in the night Right I pluck my right eye right out ----
Yanked from your slumber What ominous portent dangles in your face? Rife with sprites falling on knives crowd into your gaze well sight is a sense and in your defense one I might liken to... the manner in which you touch what you clutch and the that the wind touches you
---- If only the good ones die young I'd pray your corruption would swift like a thief in the night Right I pluck my right eye right out
If only the young ones die good I'd pray your corruption would slip like a slit in the wrist hack the hands, redeem the rest
