歌词
Dragging a lake, find the owner of the voice
I zip in the bag and drove up all across the noise
Examine the hairline, his archive's in the strands
You're telling me something that puts the weakness in my hands
I see what I suppose
I breathe what I dispose
Black wheels getting yellow in the sand
I steal every idea that I can
Instead of a person, a shadow's in the lake
Instead of coercion, she blows his hand-grenade
And I have an aversion to dying in a car
And I reach corrosion, a suitcase in the dark
