Lyrics
pounding away in the back of my head
until i've almost lost myself
and those red and black patterns
in which nothing happens
have made me sleep
a beautiful voice is a nail
being pulled out of wood
carry on little hammer
you were always my favourite toy
when the world's dead to me
in my soft? fortunate cushion of pins(?)
is a soldier
slicing thin(?) through(?) thin(?)
the unfortunate truth sneaking in
