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lyrics

Pouring over pages filled with painted rubber faces that i hunt to see

Only in dreams do they speak,
but its never of any real consequence

I wake up once for the last time,
and nothing was the ever same ever since

blood letting, cold sweating,
it's all a timed release
capsule filled with hemlock, broken glass, your dirty body

And if I choose to believe that your hands are clean, why do I still feel the rats of disease
while theyre inside, and reaching for clarity?

Shame, oh god the shame!
What will they think of me, think of me, think of me, think of me?

Laid out on the table, spread to the ribcage
begging the doctor to operate
Shame, Oh god the shame

credits

from Maybe We're Not So Far Apart, released December 9, 2022

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clavus Athens, Georgia

SCREAMO MONEY

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