The Style Is Death

Under the cold of tears
She'll decay and be warm
The style is death
A white rose in a morphine dream

A joke to amuse life
You're buying to a snowstorm
While you shake the thoughts
Memories of conversation

Oh, come turn the line
Like eager sadness
A knife hollows them out
Hollows them out
A thin skin of black letters
A thin skin of black letters

I make myself sick
Born with thoughts of disappointment
Hands out, palms dry
Give me something to grasp
False truth or fake hope
We say "yes" to death

A joke to amuse life
You're buying to a snowstorm
While you shake the thoughts
Memories of conversation

The style is death
The style is death
The style is death
The style is death



Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Czarnik
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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