Trauma

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Soma Plume

6:55

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It will see right through me with its wall of eyes
Silent disapproval of solitary time
Skin is only clothing the mechanism's hide
Teeth are not as tender as smiles have you find

Oh but a moment - a cordoned fleeting thought
Wreath the breathing trauma with a silver-lined charade

Hands were made to damage, tongues were made to tie
Skulls are just the ghosts inside a mortal flesh design
It will eat my head off with its yawning jaws
Cleansing and consuming the body and its flaws

Oh but a moment - a cordoned fleeting thought
Wreathe the breathing trauma with a silver-lined charade
Drink the supple torment, palpable in spires
That force the holes wide open to trickle in white lies

Oh but a moment - a cordoned fleeting thought
Wreathe the breathing trauma with a silver-lined charade
Drink the supple torment, palpable in spires
That force the holes wide open to trickle in white lies

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