Paroles Comatopia/Dermaphoria de The Tempest Armada

The Tempest Armada
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  • Artiste: The Tempest Armada42103
  • Chanson: Comatopia/Dermaphoria
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Textes et Paroles de Comatopia/Dermaphoria



birds slam into puddles
wings pouring in arsenals of disease
the stalemate of storms
says i'm sick with a cure
that looks like belief

celestial serial killers are too squeamish to kill
but mercy never knew that shadow of ours
intoxicated under the influence of flames
the bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rain

pangea is restrung
and odin's breath steals us
from our prison's pores
sedated in swarms
a market of fleas
claustrophobes and thieves

celestial serial killers are too squeamish to kill
but mercy never knew that shadow of ours
intoxicated under the influence of flames
the bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rain

and i'm eyed by the eyes that i'm eyeing with mine
am i born
the ephemeral song of your biblical wrongs
counts the strays

celestial serial killers are too squeamish to kill
but mercy never knew that shadow of ours
intoxicated under the influence of flames
the bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rain

much too drunk with the thinking
you're forgetful of blinking at the sun
now it's your loss that you're lost
as you cross hell's alleys where you left your cross

a brain washed and fried
it wrinkles and dries
a derelict sage grabs at the brain
and shoves it inside
a heart hacked and thawed
from the horrors it saw
a pretense pretends
there might be an end
to impulsive flaw

sweet monuments mourn what's
ensnared in every throat
we do our breathing til it gets too cold
elude the air that knocks on
these psychotropic doors
we keep on building til it gets too old
sweet monuments mourn what's
ensnared in every throat
we do our breathing til it gets too cold

the ruins of fallen kingdoms
they're waiting to break my fall
intent upon the instincts
content without them all

the hallway ends upon a ledge
the lights go on, cause life goes on
begin again

birds slam into puddles
wings pouring in arsenals of disease
the stalemate of storms
says i'm sick with a cure
that looks like belief

celestial serial killers are too squeamish to kill
but mercy never knew that shadow of ours
intoxicated under the influence of flames
the bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rain

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