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de SYCAMOUR

I’ve heard it all before.
All the sob stories
Start with you gotta get out, end with you didn’t want in.
I’ve heard it all before

“A professional lover”
It’s more than most can speak for
Paint me a picture with your waist now, honey
Whoa-oh, and come over
Dilapidated veneer
Champagne on your snakeskin lips
Like we were celebrating the death of your innocence
God Damn, lap dances to funeral hymns
To pay him, cause you don’t want nothing to do with them
Life drained from this house just like a virgin crime
Paint me a picture with your waist now, honey
Whoa-oh, and come over

Hey, I think you’re afraid
Don’t pray for us
You can’t save us
We never asked you to
You can’t save us
Living with nothing to lose
I know you. I know you, soul
I’ve read those lines before
I’ve played that song
On the radio, in the obituaries
I’ve held that shovel before (yeah)
Mine was made to bury
Dark things, dark Places
Cold nights, lives wasted away in the light
You’re so much better in the night
When you’re faceless
I’m faithless

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