sky puts her face on I never wake up until it’s too late
and when the time comes our vicious cycle leaves me dead again
I never seem to notice when it comes and goes until it’s too late
I never seem to know just when and why it came
up in the attic coated in static and things that I can’t see
all these illusions boil confusion and the blood inside my veins
I’m waiting for it to hit me won’t you please just hit me I can’t feel a thing
be it all my fingers or sticky guilt that lingers all around my grave
the jesters are jousting far too much
the hecklers are heckling far too much
the records are popping from the dust
and for the record I need it so god damn much
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