M A T H - Sins | Текст песни

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• M A T H
• Sins

i could count my sins and so i did that of which would shame them unto the one that shook so well, she who was to blame then. through fuck and blood, a flood of muck; thoughts on minds to bend them to swirls that whirl and melt and curl so as not to defend them.

i could shoot myself to let thoughts out
to show the ones who always have sought doubt
through the still smoking hole that my descending soul had pulsating cysts that drank blood from my wrists
its not easily covered up but i’ll try

knees caving back, sawed through by the pack
scraping and skidding my skin is sordid all torn and scorned, bloody and worn.

I could count all my sins and slowly I did.

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