Let me strip my head
Numb it out into a sacred layer
There's the living jail
With the ashes of my own hair
Talk about angel loss
Mystics told his soul is fully gloved
Well, here we go
The only hope that's left is in our home

If they're born to die
They shouldn't count with the way of their hands
Trust your bloody hands
Don't leave him mad 'cause you're next in line
If they follow you
Just tell 'em one was dead and I'll be sold
Leave your soul in this
If all else fails just leave with a kiss

Copyright: ROUGH TRADE PUBLISHING
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