Woorden: Napalm Death. Words From The Exit Wound. Clutching At Barbs.

Waylaid by the hand that leads, scale the heights of intimacy
Forewarned, unarmed, one intoxicating whiff, and you're snared
One intoxicating whiff and you're snared
Clutching at barbs

Dose up to delirium, cross circles of death for good
Deflect contests, one intoxicating whiff, and you're snared

Mock me, I'm convulsing, I'm clutching at barbs
Crass pity goes the deepest, it magnifies the dross
The dross, the dross

A grip enforced barely healing, I'm clutching at barbs
Leave me to snatch and paw, then lick up my wounds

Struggle spent, I concede defeat
Swing for scumbags who heaved the leash
Soft hands, sweet chance, one intoxicating whiff, and I'm snared
One intoxicating whiff, and I'm snared