From The Hell

Disconnect the room to breathe

Wash the soul of anything that leaves

We wither away this imperfect shape

Dark on blue days

Watch the people weep

Dirty nails scratch off this disease

Perfect glass reflects the past

Dark on blue days

Dark on blue days

Step one, lather brush in bleach

And then you find a spot that really hurts

Scrape and scrub until it starts to bleed

This world, it won't restore and cure a broken heart for long

Fear hunger

We picture a perfect kind of wealth

Sink deeper

To camouflage the feelings from the hell

Terribly unwell

Terribly unwell

Terribly unwell

Feelings from the hell