Из альбома: Selfhood
As pale as the days were blue
An illness so convincing
How ever did you pull through?
From the medway to my ears
One sonnet so degrading
How ever could I thank you
The room is spiraling
The walls are closing in
The truth's been splattered
Over you with oil paint
As tender as the heart is raw
Raise the bottle to your glass face
And let those spinal cords unwind
The room is spiraling
The dice are tumbling
The extent of my education exceeds