White Homes کے بول

White frame lies to live in leave, nothing to gain, your colorless divinities can scarcely light the way, white frame homes in celibate rows, they swell and melt together, aspirations lie in possesions each swellers dream so similar. Keep witches behind, mythical lines, and squeeze my faith between my knees, I can't take one more lie, so I'll take one of each. In this static heat, I barely make my home suffice, persuaded by a sleepy beat, I can't tell which is mine. Pack it in, save it up, pack it in, save it up. In this static heat, I barely make my home suffice, persuaded by a sleepy beat, I can't tell which is mine, Impeded by machine, awash in blue light spending nights, imbibing life through their screen, it shows me to believe.