Sigil

I feel my innocence
Die at your fingertips
And hold you all night like regret
You won't leave my past
You'll never leave my head
But darling, you would leave me for dead

In the evening we returned to leave
And even out the reasons we were being
Greedy heathens filthy eating meat and greasy
Secrets seeping out of something
Hands cast in shadows breathing
Fists drawn in darkness creeping
Light stained in blood discreetly
Heads up seven sigils burn bright for seasons
Untold, no memories unfold
In the space we hold between tangled strongholds
Placed on the right lines
Placed at the right time-one mind
Wards drawn in grey and white alright
Put a little rhyme make the night grow sixfold
Press hold press play press anything
Yo leave the past in between our fingertips



Credits
Writer(s): Autocorrect & The Post-timey String Band
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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