[Verse 1]
Nothing makes my heart so wild as being
In possession of a potent night
Racing down the stairs in a nude descension
Shedding and discarding my hide
But the bold strokes crack so quickly
And it's often that I wonder why
Dripping at the slow-motion rate of surrender
Hanging to my bones as they dry
How can I want something more than a new hell in which to fry
When I see in mostly black and white?
[Verse 2]
There's a sinful sort of side of being
So contained, a bit like being lost
Stumbling through the background like a small town loner
Quietly a-whisperin' my thoughts
Into my cupped hands, folded and monk-like
At least that's what I've always said
How does writing letters from the lonely margins
Feel when there is no hair on my head?
Is the solitude I seek a trap where I've been blindly led?
Tell me, where then do I go instead?
[Feedback Solo]
Nothing makes my heart so wild as being
In possession of a potent night
Racing down the stairs in a nude descension
Shedding and discarding my hide
But the bold strokes crack so quickly
And it's often that I wonder why
Dripping at the slow-motion rate of surrender
Hanging to my bones as they dry
How can I want something more than a new hell in which to fry
When I see in mostly black and white?
[Verse 2]
There's a sinful sort of side of being
So contained, a bit like being lost
Stumbling through the background like a small town loner
Quietly a-whisperin' my thoughts
Into my cupped hands, folded and monk-like
At least that's what I've always said
How does writing letters from the lonely margins
Feel when there is no hair on my head?
Is the solitude I seek a trap where I've been blindly led?
Tell me, where then do I go instead?
[Feedback Solo]
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