Weak and decadent whine

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Song Lyrics  |  House: Booksie Classic
«These chains of suffering around my wrists,
They are impregnated with the dried blood
of three years too long for me...»

Submitted: March 07, 2017

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Submitted: March 07, 2017

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Weak and decadent whine


(These chains of suffering around my wrists,
They are impregnated with the dried blood
of three years too long for me...)

I can't get up,
You have beaten my knees too strong
and the passers who want to raise me
no, they can't drag me away.
I pulled my chains faintly,
but you hold them so firmly
to don't give me space to breathe,
other air that is not already been yours.
 
I feel cold with these tears raining down,
coming from the past, icy as my mood.
Can you feel my weak and decadent whine?
I feel cold with these tears raining down,
coming from the past, icy as my mood.
Can you feel my weak and decadent whine?
Can you die for my weak and decadent whine?
 
The chime of my mind destroyed,
croaks endlessly your abject voice.
So pull the cord, I know that you want
hear me whisper my sick love for you.
I will continue to stare blankly there,
while waiting for the return of my soul.
(Break me into pieces, kill me!)
This blood scratchy corner
is impregnated with pain as moisture.
(I don't want to stay here...)
 
I feel cold with these tears raining down,
coming from the past, icy as my mood.
Can you feel my weak and decadent whine?
I feel cold with these tears raining down,
coming from the past, icy as my mood.
Can you feel my weak and decadent whine?
Can you die for my weak and decadent whine?
 
(Heresy call it life)
you bring my chains,
and push me on the climb
(Waiting for the cliff!)
 
I'll hold on to your meat
trying to rip it away,
(Waiting for the cliff!)
even if you've already filed my teeth.
 
I will try to tear my eyes away;
my ears will look you for me.
(This weak and decadent whine...)
 
I will kill you to die here,
in a cardboard box in my mind.
 I feel cold with these tears raining down,
coming from the past, icy as my mood.
Can you feel my weak and decadent whine?
I feel cold with these tears raining down,
coming from the past, icy as my mood.
Can you die for my weak and decadent whine?
Can you die for my weak and decadent whine?
 
 


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