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Knifeworld
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Unwreckaged
I'm looking out into an open sore,
Bleeding eyes that shut themselves out,
And cut yourself out of me,
I'm looking out into an open sore,
Bleeding eyes that shut themselves out,
You gotta get out.
Brambles push through soil,
Friends hide real agendas in the sidings.
Drumkits fall apart,
Lovers drown in lakes of woe be tidings.
And me?
You gotta shake it up to me,
Before I come to harm.
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You gotta make it up to she,
Before I buy the farm.
You gotta shake it up to me.
A lover's trust I could just kiss away with one bleary doubt,
A second chance and I'm rolling for one, in doubt unwreckaged.
Living out of sorts and living out of ourselves, faster decision,
And cloudy thoughts will kick in long sleepless nights.
Long sleepless nights.
Untie me now please.
Please.
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