What if I said that this ain't the one,
The slicked back curd of the yellow sun,
What if I said the riders had come,
We're stood downstream and we ain't got nowhere to run,

Hangnote

We got the bad blood coursing in,
Over the rim we go hands to the ceiling,
We got the room come falling in,
Into the swim we go hands to the ceiling,
Black hearts, fuck'em

What if I said that this ain't the one,
Thick black words of a bellowed tongue,
What if I said the climb of the drum,
Will tear down scenes when you ain't got nowhere to run,

Hangnote

We got the eyes up to the brim,
Out of the ring we go hands to the ceiling,
We got the first light clawing limb,
Under the skin we go hands to the ceiling,
Black hearts, fuck'em

What if I said that this ain't the one,
The slicked back curd of the yellow sun,
What if I said the riders had come,
We're stood downstream and we ain't got nowhere to run,

Hangnote

You're leaning towers,
You change shape.


Lyrics submitted by Vertherine

Black Mire song meanings
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