Those are the dead stars
|
Those are the dead stars
|
You said you'd drown in my words
|
Pushed by the ink of my pen
|
Those Are the dead stars
|
He climbs to the highest branch of the tree
|
He won't come down; you need to cut him down
|
And now your shadows will know
|
Why your flowers won't grow
|
Those branches are denser than blood
|
Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him, shoot
|
Electric ink on a feather
|
Cleaned by the salt of the sea
|
I'll pas it on to the insects
|
So they can document me
|
Those are the dead stars
|
He climbs to the highest branch of the tree
|
He won't come down; you need to cut him down
|
And now your shadows will know
|
Why your flowers won't grow
|
We bludgeon the cut
|
To open the scab
|
We burn off our roots and pretend that we're sad
|
Repeat Until we believe that this is the life that we lead
|
This is the life that we'll lead
|
This is the light that you'll keep
|
So John, get the gun
|
If this is the road
|
We'll have us some fun
|
We'll stay up all night and say our goodbyes
|
These are the dead stars that march by your eyes
|
Razors listen
|
We grind our teeth
|
Dig our plots
|
Ten feet deep
|
That way no one has any reason to complain
|
Caught by the spine
|
We complain
|
Those are the dead stars
|
|
-----------------
|
...And That's Where They Found My Body
|
| Trophy Scars |
