A city grown accustomed to the corner of a birdcage Frozen buds as well A voice deserted shadows from memories gone dark
I need your blood You really love to writhe A struggling Red Line
The models I've pushed my way through And rhytms I've pried open Simply line up in parallel
Come and break it down for me I'll lead the way on home Not even the most listless stars will grant wishes But for those played forth by pollution parched for penitence A grave bathed in light through the trees will stir