Текст песни Singing the Obits - Skittish

On the morning of soggy cigarettes,
In sidekick pockets of my favorite faded jeans,
You said something just tell me what you mean.
Light burns and barrels through the glass,
The night's indulgences are broadcast from my every pore.
You're staring daggers right through me,
Lets end this eyeball autopsy once more.
I was lying there all dyed and made-up
You were sitting fire-side in judgment
Why not let it out and just be done with it?
Singing out the obits
No heart. No heart inside my hand.
No heat in my hold, no harvest on this land.
But I got to find success before my nephew grows up
Enough to know what a loser I am.
Cause Jenna said he didn't mean it, but often
Kids are the most hones ones... little itty bitty ones...
I was lying there all dyed and made-up
You were sitting fire-side in judgment
Why not let it out and just be done with it?
Singing out the obits
I've been living in this shoe box,
Sugar coating failures for merry Christmas cards.
And I thank you for the holes you cut,
But I am no-ones pet. These walls, these bars are driving me
To stereotypy.
You seem to think there's something soft,
Beneath these fangs and sharpened claws.
So risk a touch but do resign,
The blood between will not be mine.
I was lying there all dyed and made-up
You were sitting fire-side in judgment
Why not let it out and just be done with it?
Singing out the obits
I've been living in this shoe box,
Long enough to know not to quit singing just yet.