Lyrics knuckle - dylantheinfamous , looms.

But we dying anyways?
Rest heavy wide awake lying. High heaven in her hands
Holding broke knuckles bandaged - clasping arms.
The same palms brand the damage he masked.
Rapping at the wall.
She said we living art they tryna hang us at the walls.
Hadn't managed. Hacked the canvas. Fontana shit.
Ring cracking at her call.
No signal in this parish kid. They tapped n all.
Small days.
No ball games signs prised up off walkways with wall paint.
Woven over houses fit to kick the can in.
Life time kicking back couldn't kick the habit.
This shit was handed.
Crooked crooked finger in its point.
Sitting missing joints. Dave Allen. Quipping.
See the victor in the victim no matter who did or didn't.
It's in the inner vision is it not?
Don't answer that. He saving the fam.
With the very few who take his hand and don't shake it.
Her stare punctuate the statements that he splaying up and jab at.
The school boy lab rat. Mad hat change places.
Aching hands had made him able to stand, gracious.
See a woman had to made him a man
My mum made me