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Hearts And Masks - Wrench In The Works
Today demons sit on their thrones plucking dirty notes
Of brass mistaken for filthy crowns made of gold
Chaos is all this conversation is
Trust is nothing a ringer would be better to take the bids
Sick of the chase my life I must live through
Give into the grave live to kill the pain
Hearts and masks tend to break so easily
Playing you was really never me
Alter egos suffocate the air we need to breathe
Hearts and masks tend to break so easily
We flock to emptiness and invitations of mundane stress
So look sharp and don't forget your Sunday's best
My self my cell my hell My self my cell my hell
My self my cell my hell
Give into the grave don't live to kill the pain
