Текст песни Snare

like those clever traps a bit of wire a rusty barb I've seen some people set and never check for prey there are tripwires in the righteous sneers of some of us in their boots they carry the seeds of all those vines they cut in the papers of the pigs and the whispers of the kids there was one word feels like this room is getting small, we're only talking to the walls take heed, warning, whisper, not me this is just snare and snarl, raccoon blood and kerosene a wasted feeling, eating paper like a trick by this threadbare chord held together so we're connected tightly but only just feels like this room is getting small, soon there will be no room at all