Blackbird Raum
Snare
like those clever traps a bit of wire a rusty barb I've seen some people set and never check for preythere are tripwires in the righteous sneers of some of us in their boots they carry the seeds of all those vines they cutin the papers of the pigs and the whispers of the kids there was one wordfeels like this room is getting small, we're only talking to the wallstake heed, warning, whisper, not methis is just snare and snarl, raccoon blood and kerosenea wasted feeling, eating paper like a trickby this threadbare chord held together so we're connected tightly but only justfeels like this room is getting small, soon there will be no room at all
From Letras Mania