Chunks 3 and 4:
<b>Gone are the glad hands, the black holes and liars,</b>
The constant companions, <b>obnoxious</b> suppliers.
<b>Carnivore</b> kings milking holiday sins,
Comas <b>and</b> cashmire.
It went from no good to fucked up and over.
A total distortion of <b>lifelong disorders,</b>
Barreling headfirst <b>through</b> fresh open wounds.
This, I was not used to.
Now that my words don't quite do what they should,
Now that old wounds are resurfacing too,
It makes me feel <b>golden</b>.
It makes me feel <b>good</b>.
from the lyric book: (corrections bolded)
Chunks 3 and 4: <b>Gone are the glad hands, the black holes and liars,</b> The constant companions, <b>obnoxious</b> suppliers. <b>Carnivore</b> kings milking holiday sins, Comas <b>and</b> cashmire.
It went from no good to fucked up and over. A total distortion of <b>lifelong disorders,</b> Barreling headfirst <b>through</b> fresh open wounds. This, I was not used to.
Now that my words don't quite do what they should, Now that old wounds are resurfacing too, It makes me feel <b>golden</b>. It makes me feel <b>good</b>.