Trophy Scars - Gutted lyrics
[Trophy Scars - Gutted lyrics]
These are shadows swinging
From the chandeliers
The husband entranced by the dark
The wife, the kids
The mirror all sick with fear
As our ghosts flip over every little cross
Then they see the angels and
All their bloody deaths
Lent to burning crosses on their heads
As they run out the door
We appear through the floor
Ghosts forevermore
Scratching burning crosses on our heads
They think of their house
Their perfect little house
So they pay a priest to bless us out
As they board up the doors
And tear up the floors dead forevermore
Still wearing that blood-soaked
Filthy fucking blouse
By the cellar stairs and
The birchwood chairs you
Can hear the creaks from the house
Through the lilac trees, through
The swamps and weeds
You can hear the screams from their mouths
I used to think that we knew best
Drinking blood at church by the park
I used to say "Everyone's afraid"
Everyone's afraid of the dark
Clutching to their Bibles
Burning holy candles
They think they got a handle on their house
But every time they go to bed my
Girl is standing by their heads
I watch her open her transparent mouth
"You won't be sleeping too long, "
"You'll pack up your things before dawn, "
"We'll burn through your sheets
As you hear us scream"
"Scratching burning crosses on our heads"
Then they see the angels and all their blood
Deaths lent to burning crosses on their heads
As they run out the door
We appear through the floor
Ghosts forevermore
Scratching burning crosses on our heads
From the chandeliers
The husband entranced by the dark
The wife, the kids
The mirror all sick with fear
As our ghosts flip over every little cross
Then they see the angels and
All their bloody deaths
Lent to burning crosses on their heads
As they run out the door
We appear through the floor
Ghosts forevermore
Scratching burning crosses on our heads
They think of their house
Their perfect little house
So they pay a priest to bless us out
As they board up the doors
And tear up the floors dead forevermore
Still wearing that blood-soaked
Filthy fucking blouse
By the cellar stairs and
The birchwood chairs you
Can hear the creaks from the house
Through the lilac trees, through
The swamps and weeds
You can hear the screams from their mouths
I used to think that we knew best
Drinking blood at church by the park
I used to say "Everyone's afraid"
Everyone's afraid of the dark
Clutching to their Bibles
Burning holy candles
They think they got a handle on their house
But every time they go to bed my
Girl is standing by their heads
I watch her open her transparent mouth
"You won't be sleeping too long, "
"You'll pack up your things before dawn, "
"We'll burn through your sheets
As you hear us scream"
"Scratching burning crosses on our heads"
Then they see the angels and all their blood
Deaths lent to burning crosses on their heads
As they run out the door
We appear through the floor
Ghosts forevermore
Scratching burning crosses on our heads