Dead Hands کے بول

We'll stretch the skin out till it hurts A smile from ear to ear Your side of the story The worst Attempt at preventing tears Here I am, the archetype of words Give me a moment! And I'll make it worse! The flesh it opens in cold blood It's put to paper with a Constant upper hand I could Claim to be at peace with it Or I could set fire to your dying wit! Welcome to heartbreak! You're gonna drown in it! And I'll be on the ocean floor! Black hearts dead hands! The ink has finally run dry from this lonely pen! The cardiac arrest is worse When honest spines are still The blade it ruptures no remorse But a hell of a way to feel Your insides flatten out and flee the course And a tangled conscience creates a new cold war I won't be your open door! Black hearts dead hands! The ink has finally run dry from this tragic pen! Black hearts dead hands! We'll sink down to the bottom while you're busy sifting sands! Your cold dead hands! Those cold dead hands! I'd like to thank the sands of time for burying us both just right!