Текст песни Crimes of the Heart - Waxahatchee

I got off at your stop, at my stock's sudden drop
I'm a trusted doorstop or a paperweight, taciturn, inanimate

I can sit on your shelf, like ashes foretell
A spirit in hell while the living sleep right on through
Take a shortcut

And I coulda called I suppose, I'm the thorn on your rose
I'm the emperor's new clothes
And I make it look easier every time

If you'da left it to me who knows where we would be
Reading fortunes for free in someone else's goldmine
Survey my breaker like cheap wine
You let it in sometimes
A floodgate you can pantomime
You let it in sometimes

In every crime of the heart, you'll rip yourself apart
It's outsider art, provokes every emotion

And it may bewilder a few, it's an unpleasant view
You're an agent of truth, twisted up at the tail end
You play the villain like a violin
It comes from within
Darkness you can befriend
It comes from within

It's a dead end
Don't overextend
Hail the darkness you can befriend

It's a dead end
Don't overextend
Hail the darkness you can befriend