Testo
When the razors break in us it's time to give in
With a feast of wood and dust, a diet of glass, contort, distort
Why am I so attracted to the dangerous relationships
so false and cinematic? for I belong it seems nowhere,
slowly imploding, so delicate, with all the answers inside out
My time at war with myself
I wish I could touch my shin with my knees I don't have any joints in my legs, my fingernails start at my ankles and wrists
How could you recognise me wounded,
I thought I had covered it up. Di, dice, die, dice
