broken legs
i’ve found it hard to find
sympathy for rogues and scoundrels
crashing crimson upon an oily shore
the permeation of sin into the salt
cast away
what’d you say?
drown in the acheron
that dry cough you feel
deep down in your chest
it’s the harbinger of your death
no use in trying to stop it
it’s something that comes with time
one more funeral for this crime
too pretentious to
admit their own downfall
let down by all the other crows
oh no!
but your blood on the pavement sobers you to
your own mortality
that dry cough you feel
deep down in your chest
it’s the harbinger of your death
no use in trying to stop it
it’s something that comes with time
one more funeral for this crime
that dry cough you feel
deep down in your chest
it’s the harbinger of your death
no use in trying to stop it
it’s something that comes with time
one more funeral for this crime
