Woorden: Dispute. Everyone, Everything. Dead Of Night.

Iced veins. Steel brains. Sour tears. Hollow ears. The room has been painted red. The walls, the curtains, the bed. A slow pull and quick result. A fast way to stop a pulse. We talk about the loud and fear the quiet the most. It's what they hide inside that we want the fucking most. Iced veins. Steel brains. Sour tears. Hollow ears. Listen a little bit closer. Talk a little bit slower. We can hear the pain that is so familiar