Trophy Scars, Adam Fisher - Chicago Typewriter lyrics
[Trophy Scars, Adam Fisher - Chicago Typewriter lyrics]
Sun light peers through the window
Of our forsaken house
You look at my face, I look at your face
You put your hand to your mouth
Are you troubled my dear?
Are you boiling with
Fear? Has your guilt-ridden
Conscience caved in?
There's not heaven or hell
This house is it for us both
Let the haunting forever begin
So I punish my liver like I walked
In and caught him fucking my daughter
He was fucking my daughter
I'm a cobweb in the corner
I'm tortured and worn out
But I'd like you to remember me as great
(Great writer, a great lover, great artist
Great) and so I garnish my liver with
The blood of whoever and I
Tell you I love you because I
Believe that I love you
I believe you'll leave me a sad empty vessel
I'll just wander these halls
Like a slow-moving thought
We watch the wood floors warp in
The sun patiently pacing till midnight
We watch our corpses decompose in the
Bleached silver ray of the moonlight
The years forget us as our
Bones turn to dust
She speaks only when lonely
As we accept fate
Just then a family of eight moves in
For a small sum of money
So now punished
I shall punish whoever inhabit's
This house - now a canvas
A puppet with my hand in it
I move through the rooms
Like a hemorrhaged balloon
I tickle your neck with the
Stink of my breath
Now I garnish my hate with
The torture of eight
I sell them religion because
We all need religion
Now enter the priest! He shrieks
Latin and sprays water i stick to the walls
In this house I am God
In every home a ghost exists
With every moan the house admit's
Of our forsaken house
You look at my face, I look at your face
You put your hand to your mouth
Are you troubled my dear?
Are you boiling with
Fear? Has your guilt-ridden
Conscience caved in?
There's not heaven or hell
This house is it for us both
Let the haunting forever begin
So I punish my liver like I walked
In and caught him fucking my daughter
He was fucking my daughter
I'm a cobweb in the corner
I'm tortured and worn out
But I'd like you to remember me as great
(Great writer, a great lover, great artist
Great) and so I garnish my liver with
The blood of whoever and I
Tell you I love you because I
Believe that I love you
I believe you'll leave me a sad empty vessel
I'll just wander these halls
Like a slow-moving thought
We watch the wood floors warp in
The sun patiently pacing till midnight
We watch our corpses decompose in the
Bleached silver ray of the moonlight
The years forget us as our
Bones turn to dust
She speaks only when lonely
As we accept fate
Just then a family of eight moves in
For a small sum of money
So now punished
I shall punish whoever inhabit's
This house - now a canvas
A puppet with my hand in it
I move through the rooms
Like a hemorrhaged balloon
I tickle your neck with the
Stink of my breath
Now I garnish my hate with
The torture of eight
I sell them religion because
We all need religion
Now enter the priest! He shrieks
Latin and sprays water i stick to the walls
In this house I am God
In every home a ghost exists
With every moan the house admit's