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throw this time
biding my tongue
till i taste the rest
Standing at the emptiness on the yellow wall
Left every brown coat is gone
Just a shadow in the dust
Swallowing a bit of water down
Looking at the silent towns
Striking the wooden night
Watching the yellow people burn too black
Striking a wooden match
Watching the yellow paper burn to black
No turning back no turning back
The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head
the choking on the beter words that i h this says
Sweeing up the cold gray ass
From the i am ptryna hold the running water in a shaking hand of fire
Is there a fiis day
Footsteps fading down the wooden step
Grasspat the empty winter air
A pocket full of soul
A mouth full of sin
Drawing a map of a forgotten land
I am now tearing at my skin
who's in the game before i begin
Strike king the wooden match
Watching the yellow paper burn to black
Strike in the wooden match
Ch watching the yellow paper burn through black
No turning back
No turning back
The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head
Shocking on the bitter was that i never said
Sweeping up the cold gray
A from the iron pain
Trying to hold the running water in a shaking hand
Fire is de
The fire is dead
I'm on the floor
I'm on the door
Come tide tide in the line
Find the fired
never say
never say
