It's It's It's

Weatherman is always wrong

He tells me sunny skies with his rain coat on

Weatherman is up to no good

He tells me no chance of rain

As if I haven't got a brain

I don't trust the people of this town

They walk around smiling

But I know inside they got a frown

I don't trust the people in this house

Sometimes things go missing when I put them down

Little things speak out to me if I listen

Try to close my ears

But somehow they get my attention

Blood of lamb

On the door

Signs of a coming place that I choose to ignore

It's like these floors can feel me

Something breathes down my neck

My hair ends up and I feel itchy

I look into my hands but they're empty

I gave myself away to a man

Who I thought loved me

I look into my chest but it's hollowed

It's been scooped out by a crow

Who needed a heart to borrow

Little things speak out to me if I listen

Try to close my ears

But somehow they get my attention

Blood of lamb

On the door

Signs of a coming place that I choose to ignore

Little things speak out to me if I listen

Try to close my ears

But somehow they get my attention

Blood of lamb

On the door

Signs of a coming place that I choose to ignore

To ignore

Little things speak out to me if I listen

Try to close my ears

But somehow they get my attention