Из альбома: Gub
Between these hands
Behold
What should be solid
pours through the cracks in the floor
And more
Always more
The grip is slipping
The grip is slipping
Clench the hand
As is moves
It spasms
It spasms
Within these arms
The world
A twisting feeling
What a very thing to hold
And score...
Yet score
Scratch the deepest
Cut to the core
Flex the arm
As it moves
It spasms
It spasms
Between these hands