stitchings

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Drew South

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Called by the hand of the bringer of death
I felt the earth shake the remaining's of its waste
Bow down, turn your head to the skies
Claims of fate repeat as the missiles sink
Every known eye
Turn your head to the skies
So, turn your head to the skies
Talking out your head you hit it
Calling out again to fix the
Broken hearts
You carved too far down
Nothing ever cared less
No one can confess
Something from your best to end it
Calling for a mess to cleanse the
Broken hearts
You carved too far down
Nothing ever seemed bliss
No one can pretend
All my life I've been hearing it
Effort's useless in thought
Common mind has been fearing this
Tear down the impending fault
Focused on the resist of peace
Walking further from the stitchings of grief
Whatever happened to the buried beneath this ground
I think I'm bound
I think I'm going to fucking rip this out
Rip this out
Talking out your head you hit it
Calling out again to fix the
Broken hearts
You carved too far down
Nothing ever cared less
No one can confess
Something from your best to end it
Calling for a mess to cleanse the
Broken hearts
You carved too far down
Nothing ever seemed bliss
No one can pretend
Oh
Can pretend

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