Текст песни Antidote - In Clover

Like our poetry
We are bitter
Of demons we can't contain
And faces we can't forget
Dying is a show
While the crowd applause

The moon is our therapist
And the wind a comfort hand
The holes in our skin they speak a little darker than the head
They don't even see
This terrible entity

I will find my Antidote
I will find my Antidote
I will find my Antidote
I will find my Antidote
I will find my Antidote
I will find my Antidote
I'm begging, begging you to stay