I give blood to prove to myself
|
That I can matter to somebody else
|
Is what makes a man the dirt on his hands?
|
Go put your faith in the desert sand
|
|
The wind is always blowing
|
There are gallows deep inside my lungs
|
That's where I hung ambition
|
|
Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door?
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Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984
|
I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores
|
And I open my umbrella even when I am indoors
|
Give me seven more!
|
|
I give blood, not for the cause
|
But to slowly give up the person I was
|
Holding my breath won't help, everything went to hell
|
So now I steal back pennies from the well because my wishes failed
|
I am screaming at my own shadow to stop living like a ghost
|
|
Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door?
|
Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984
|
I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores
|
And I open my umbrella even when I am indoors
|
Give me seven more!
|
|
I don't need you, I'm not that desperate
|
Come visit me in twenty years, and maybe then
|
'Cause I'm not done screaming yet
|
You can call off the intervention
|
'Cause I don't need your attention!
|
|
Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door?
|
Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984
|
I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores
|
And I open my umbrella even when I am indoors
|
Give me seven more!
|
|
I don't need you, I'm not that desperate!
|
I don't need you, I'm not that desperate yet!
|
|
-----------------
|
Lungs Like Gallows
|
| Senses Fail |
