Rusted into shape and sinking into dark,
Holding onto emerald hearts and hoping for a spark.
It's the faded memories but the chill of feeling fine,
It's the falling into madness but we do this all the time.
It's the cannot carry on…
It's the shade of fear she said.
It's the silk line torn to shreds.
It's the weight of the rosary beads ‘round your head,
It's the size of the monsters eyes under your bed.
It's the shade of fear she said.
Breaking into pieces,
Picking up the shards.
Laying them on ruby beads,
And cherishing re-opened scars.
A fitting eulogy for the
Burning of the songs.
It's the sacred art of breaking down,
You've known this all along.
It's the cannot carry on…
It's the shade of fear she said.
It's the silk line torn to shreds.
It's the weight of the rosary beads ‘round your head,
It's the size of the monsters eyes under your bed.
It's the shade of fear she said.
It's the shade of fear she said.
Oh, it's the silk line torn to shreds.
It's the weight of the rosary beads ‘round your head,
It's the size of the monsters eyes under your bed.
It's the shade of fear she said.
It's the shade of fear she said.
(And I'm barely breathing).
It's the silk line torn to shreds.
(And I'm broken, beaten).
It's the weight of the rosary beads ‘round your head,
It's the size of the monsters eyes under your bed.
It's the shade of fear she said.
It's the shade of fear she said.
