Burn The Ine Out
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Lyric lagu Burn The Ine Out
BURN THE INSIDE OUT
I only want you if you eat me up.
Drink my marrow down.
I’ll still want you if you piss me away,
just pour me down your mouth.
It’s feral, creeping down your old ribs
to where your heart is a derelict house.
If I can’t even leave, never fear, I’ll just start a fire
--- (inside I see a) ---
Red book on a black shelf.
White page being burned.
Green window pane sinking down.
Black bird in the sun.
The walls are rotten and blooming vines. Eaten from inside.
There are holes and stains on the carpet's mane, like lion skin gone foul.
A black doe lost on the white lines.
A fresh flower, still on time.
These pretty roads are paved with red red falls.
Buildings long worn down,
they are sleeping, dreaming still,
of those who used to work inside
or some who used to sleep so still.
That old moon is so damn tired of us she can barely keep her eye open once a month,
I scratched the earth and see the red fields plum,
what gets down on beetle thumbs;
I scratched the earth to see the red fields tea;
and saw you become the shape of what you most hoped to be.
I only want you if you eat me up.
Drink my marrow down.
I’ll still want you if you piss me away,
just pour me down your mouth.
It’s feral, creeping down your old ribs
to where your heart is a derelict house.
If I can’t even leave, never fear, I’ll just start a fire
--- (inside I see a) ---
Red book on a black shelf.
White page being burned.
Green window pane sinking down.
Black bird in the sun.
The walls are rotten and blooming vines. Eaten from inside.
There are holes and stains on the carpet's mane, like lion skin gone foul.
A black doe lost on the white lines.
A fresh flower, still on time.
These pretty roads are paved with red red falls.
Buildings long worn down,
they are sleeping, dreaming still,
of those who used to work inside
or some who used to sleep so still.
That old moon is so damn tired of us she can barely keep her eye open once a month,
I scratched the earth and see the red fields plum,
what gets down on beetle thumbs;
I scratched the earth to see the red fields tea;
and saw you become the shape of what you most hoped to be.
Cari Burn The Ine Out:
