Stains
I believe the stains I leave will show them all how I'ave lived
Colors coming through my collar, primitive as they can be
Not developed, baby zealot, shaking hands under umbrella
In attempt to make his steps he's being yelled for making stains
They're upset for I get stained, being clean inside my head - so what
But I don't undertand it, why do they care for my own welfare
They seem to demand it, their sterile affair and their only prayer
But I don't understand why
Why should I be clean, refined fuel for the machine of someone
As I speak the way I feel, I see paint in their meal, lost seals
Like the puppets, cold and numb, I just want them come alive, at last
As they spit out sterile wings, they don't want to cut their strings attached
They clean the stains instead, pretending there's no end
And they will live in total silence, closing eyes on someone's violence and not growing any peace
They clean the stains instead, pretending there's no end
For nothing will remain, not any tick of gray, the white ideal world of vacuum
Shaped in spheres of hypocrites
They clean the stains instead, they want us white as lifeless bone
I see that all that's left is color coming from my valve of blood
Colors coming through my collar, primitive as they can be
Not developed, baby zealot, shaking hands under umbrella
In attempt to make his steps he's being yelled for making stains
They're upset for I get stained, being clean inside my head - so what
But I don't undertand it, why do they care for my own welfare
They seem to demand it, their sterile affair and their only prayer
But I don't understand why
Why should I be clean, refined fuel for the machine of someone
As I speak the way I feel, I see paint in their meal, lost seals
Like the puppets, cold and numb, I just want them come alive, at last
As they spit out sterile wings, they don't want to cut their strings attached
They clean the stains instead, pretending there's no end
And they will live in total silence, closing eyes on someone's violence and not growing any peace
They clean the stains instead, pretending there's no end
For nothing will remain, not any tick of gray, the white ideal world of vacuum
Shaped in spheres of hypocrites
They clean the stains instead, they want us white as lifeless bone
I see that all that's left is color coming from my valve of blood
Credits
Writer(s): Oleksii Bulavko
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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