Pull the trigger
The way sweet grass smudges my eyes
So that I slowly fade into unconsciousness
And a chest of dying roses burns;
We're existing in an undeniable fulminare of sorts
And it shows up
A ghost to my surroundings
Wearing invisible skin
Invisible Skin
Pull the trigger
The way sweet grass smudges my eyes
So that I slowly fade into unconsciousness
And a chest of dying roses burns;
We're existing in an undeniable fulminare of sorts
And it shows up
A ghost to my surroundings
Wearing invisible skin