somebody is telling me a story from before my time
of a fortress of marble and lime
the result of a hundred separate lies
I could tell you how a million little cuts
burn sweeter
when the lemon mixes with the blood
and you call yourself
having been clear that you would have it stop
Where could you be from and how
why would you come here and now
how dare you look me in the eyes
I could tell you how a million little cuts
burn sweeter
when the lemon mixes with the blood
and you call yourself
having been clear that you would have it stop