Sabbath

Making shapes in my head.
I'm tracing outlines of the prophets
and celebrities I thought to be dead.
You command the best from me.
But the taste of mothers blood
don't got that kick I always thought it should be.

If you're all out of excuses you're breaking the law.
It's dumb you have excuses at all.

I'm tracing frames from beneath my bed.
'Cause I have to hide from something,
so I'm hiding from those books that I've read.

Not all your actions
have come from reactions I saw.
I know I can only run for so long.



Credits
Writer(s): Griffin Edward Young, Brian Baker Stanley, Ian Andrew Ochs
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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