Xerxes - Commonplace

Текст песни

I’m trying not to breathe
Tear my discretion out of me
Ground, grit down on my teeth
Turn around, dispute loose tongues, blurted out phrases: sore, corrosive.
Built up, and burned through disguise.
Private matters and blue eyed innocence.
I’m holding my fingers to my skull and no matter how it’s said, it never seem
clear to you.
I’m burning out.
You’re holding up a light in the shape of a flag that burns with the screaming
fear of a love that you can’t understand, with the fear of a love that you
refuse to understand.