Слова:
Closure In Moscow First Temple

Make me vent at the knees. I've got a phantom lung- Better than the other. More like the broach you wore with apocryphal insignia. It was better left

Now the time has come: Take my icy lungs away. Pull the teeth from my skull. Sheer my crown of its hair. The permafrost is near, but you won't let it

I lay awake stuck by this fickle thorn. I lay with you so they won't sink in their claws. I lay awake while the beasts and the whores are dancing in

Fostering all my millstones. Bearing the fruit of embellishment. I'm seeing their false perception with my true perception, and he's my canary in their

put them all to shame. I'll be the vanguard of their fall, middle of their falter. Bezel in their rings, now dropping all the stones. First you'll oscillate

Invisible is just a word. Gotta shake of the dust and the mold. Because I've got this feeling deep inside, and it's moving me. Oh, and it's burning me