Woorden: Broken Social Scene. Death Cock.

Trouble, my trouble, it's death
Sounds like disease with regret
A vacuum's heart or out bits
Delicate seizures and all the rest

Trouble, my trouble, mourir
Left my lungs with the fear
Test patterns on the air
I killed you, I did it, my dear

There's a common law...

Trouble, my trouble, it's death
Skin like a sidewalk that left
Desperate cum is in our bed
A little while, I failed you at best

Failed you at best
Failed you at best

Of course, silence's gonna cost a little
I like shadows in my sleep
Coming in here, caught yourself on the fast you said,
"Comments are gorgeous, please don't speak"
I decide who lives in my best room
I got windows to protect my breed
Put down your spirit and tell me that there's something desirable for you in me

Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir

You were never supposed to go and love and ditch us by the corpse
Some signs, some sections, and our favorite eskimo
How long has it been since your dad locked that door?
Set your piss on fire and let it all go

Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir