The camera's shift and fade, as the credits start
to roll (It's almost over) The lines of a script
roll off the tongue lubed in spit, This fantasy
has a pulse, that's beating me into submission.
Then you arrive in style to amplify the essence
of, Desperately identify with reflections of
strangers. The chastity of empty eyelids where
sunset stripped you, The camera’s shift and fade,
as the credits start to roll. This fantasy has a
pulse, that's fucking beating me into submission.
But all of this fake blood, all of this fake blood
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/4aewon't fool death. Sunset stripped you down, just
in time, flowing behind your silhouette. "Oh
yeah, you gotta love that silhouette man."
I'll colour you in, outside the lines, like you
never existed. Desperately identify with
reflections of strangers. The chastity of empty
eyelids where sunset stripped you, These are the
hooks that keep us hanging on. These are the hooks
that keep us hanging on. How predictable was that
exit? The Kind Is Dead.