Paroles de White Surgeon

Synthetic bitter pain Taste of meds hospital walls Huge catheters feel the veins Red pipes suck the will Can you feel that? Can you feel? Face the scene It’s ice and fainting and colored bruises Psichedelia of suffering flesh in decomposition Big dreams reduced to test tubes May I dream for you? I don’t think so I’m the white surgeon I’m the light that blinds Let me live in your coffin Let me die in your arms