The Weather - Live

He sold out both his eyes,
Yet sees her face,
Her thighs in lace,
Oh, why such waste?

Ghosts are only negative space,
Ancestors, no blood,
No place, no mark,
Just voices, in the dark.

The floor, is covered in champagne,
The leather and the blood, and all the sudden rain,
Man, you should' ve seen those cops baptise,
The worst case scenario, survival game.

He sold out both his eyes,
Yet sees her face,
Her thighs in lace,
Oh, why such waste?

The floor, is covered in champagne,
The leather and the blood, and all the sudden rain.
Man, you should' ve seen those cops' batons,
The worst case scenario, survival game.



Credits
Writer(s): James William Terry, Jay Wesley Watson, Nicholas Roland Allbrook, Joseph Michael Ryan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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