Paroles de Exile On Mainline

Poisonous, sour demon in my pocket, And it's scraping a hole digging up, all bruised and darkened, Power plated to go down (x3), and your grip is slipping down (x3), And the page is ripping wasting the world away at the bite of your touch The wash of the passing days seeping out doesn't matter that much drowning out... No sound, pouring out upon the ground Raining down... the drain... down (x3), Morning shakes and you're fadin' away... Down , down, slowly down, Metal stressed and it's shaving away round and around and around to the ground, and I'm going tripping... down.... jerk around and the record's skipping (x3) skipping, skipping, skipping... and the record's skipping....