Pulpit of the Panicking

Holy smokes you make my insides churn
Got put on the spot, got put to deep sleep
What's a ghost without its white sheet?
Just a mere trace of restlessly dangling feet?
God I loathe breathing dust
That's been stuck
At least hundreds and thousands of shambling lessons
Of wailing and nodding at prayers not saying a word
Met my foes, they gripped me firmly
Caught me in my dreams, greet me on the street
I see them in every person I meet
Sublimely striding down the ally
Arms and legs desensationally trailing behind
God I loathe breathing dust
That's been stuck
At least hundreds and thousands of shambling lessons
Of wailing and nodding at prayers not saying a word
Knees
Knock on wood
I ran outside and slithered as fast as I could
Wait
Til it sinks in
By the entrance on the steps to internal dissection
Vendettas crawl within me
This was never my place to be
Thoroughly falling, wrapped in white sheets
While i dream
God I loathe breathing dust
That's been stuck
At least hundreds and thousands of shambling lessons
Of wailing and nodding at prayers not saying a word



Credits
Writer(s): Jan Kerscher, Elena Steri
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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