Ghost Sick کے بول

Get out of my space Get out of my home Get out of my lungs Get out of my bones All you ghosts come in reminding me There is no cure for history I’ll keep biting I’ll keep bleeding you I’ll keep tearing and collecting you I’ll keep digging I’ll keep pushing through Until there’s more of me and less of you Ghost sick Get out of my heart Get out of my head I cannot think Among the roaring dead You are my captors and my disease So quarantine or set me free Ghost sick