ALBUM REVIEW: Thornhill – BODIES
Beneath your blade, my pain was made for you.
Beneath your blade, my pain was made for you.
Misery is a delicate lace, silence as it covers my face.
Only the dead know the end, may we meet again.
It’s excessive, there’s more than seven ways to sin.
All hail next gen, can I get an amen?
Will you inherit my grief, if I finally choose to sleep?
How many men will die trying to make this right?
The things that we love just hurt us in the end.
I can’t feel a thing.