That whisper, your curling razor, mistakenly wound around my tongue to squeeze some fucking truth from that wicked obsession, your obsession, where I can pass by. They do that when you're dead. Alive I could count the stars, and you counted the screams. So if you would please just hand me my ticket, I will go and join the ground. It was where I was in the first place.
Lyrics submitted by papercutcasualty