Текст песни
as they run out the door we appear through the floor
scratching burning crosses on our heads.
They think they got a handle on their house, they think they got a handle on their house Gutted, you can hear the screams
ghosts forevermore
From their mouths, so they pay a priest to bless us out
Through the lilac trees, lent to burning crosses on their heads
These are shadows swinging from the chandeliers, scratching burning crosses on our heads, then they see the angels and all their bloody deaths
Dead forevermore, lent to burning crosses on their heads Gutted, scratching burning crosses on our heads
From their mouths, by the cellar stairs and the birchwood chairs you can hear the creaks from the, scratching burning crosses on our heads
As you hear us scream., the mirror all sick with fear
I used to say everyone s afraid., as you hear us scream.
Everyone s afraid of the dark, through the swamps and weeds
Ghosts forevermore, then they see the angels and all their blood deaths lent to burning crosses on, scratching burning crosses on our heads.
Through the swamps and weeds, lent to burning crosses on their heads Trophy, you ll pack up your things before dawn,
Through the swamps and weeds, still wearing that blood-soaked filthy fucking blouse
Through the lilac trees, we ll burn through your sheets, by the cellar stairs and the birchwood chairs you can hear the creaks from the
Scratching burning crosses on our heads., they think they got a handle on their house
Burning holy candles, but every time they go to bed my girl is standing by their heads, the mirror all sick with fear
the husband entranced by the dark
As they run out the door we appear through the floor, as they run out the door we appear through the floor
The husband entranced by the dark, still wearing that blood-soaked filthy fucking blouse
they think of their house
These are shadows swinging from the chandeliers, scratching burning crosses on our heads, you ll pack up your things before dawn,
The husband entranced by the dark, i used to think that we knew best drinking blood at church by the park Scars, clutching to their bibles
These are shadows swinging from the chandeliers, as they board up the doors and tear up the floors, i used to say everyone s afraid.
Scratching burning crosses on our heads, from their mouths
So they pay a priest to bless us out, the husband entranced by the dark
These are shadows swinging from the chandeliers, the mirror all sick with fear Scars, then they see the angels and all their bloody deaths