Claim Culture все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

The kerosine holy water saturated and wine washed lips, no afterlife smut nor elegant bound page will save you. Discharge a tenth to supply nepenthe, lower your head down. A confession: the dust can dance but it too will settle. Old beds that hosted our sleep, those things a waif could reach, did a swear pass the meaning? What prayers were they leaving? An early grin, warm, wrapped in faith will lay me down. Are we born again? Convince yourself the air will change.

The bending branches on the fir mean the devil can’t keep his hands off. There will be a dove at the eye, let language bless you blind. Heaven’s tomb is draped in threes by a passive hand. The language games comatose lay hands for me. They lip the wind, the world I’ll intend. I’d lie just above the vowels, a heavenly body, I may grow fond of this soil. A breathing pulse for this cold body. The same name can mean two different things. A single breath spinning and spinning. The same words can mean two different things.

God has never been this tangible

You will always have a hand to hold

In the wasteland

Here you can live forever

A quaalude mainline and servitude to a feeling. An anemic fix, a grasp around the wrist. That chemical embrace is our leap of faith, a little handheld god to pass the day. So fetishize your great “get me off” and swallow cancer, collagen fibers' soft. Watch the shawl eclipse the eyes. Watch the shawl eclipse the lives. Overdosed/underwhelmed, a sterile and simple barrel to the temple. A rot that guides us, a "sensus divinitatis." A miscarried god to pass away with. So fetishize your great “get me off” and swallow cancer, collagen fibers' soft. Watch the shawl eclipse the eyes. Watch the shawl eclipse the minds. Parachute my prayers. Parachute my prayers. When response is intravenous, parachute my prayers.