Televised Suicide

Elita

Compositor: Não Disponível

I bite my nails in the back of the room
I lose control of what I consume
I think we all just become immune
You know what I mean, I assume

Anxious anticipation
Violent expectation

I can see it the way you fall, feel too real
I'm running out of ways to heal
I'm running out of ways to heal

(Televised suicide)
I want to crawl away (televised suicide)
I want to run away (televised suicide)

Blood here, blood tears with the amuse
Exploit and abuse, destroy for views
I bite my nails in the back of the room
I lose control of what I consume
I think we all just become immune
You know what I mean, I assume

I can see it the way you fall, feel too real
I'm running out of ways to heal
I'm running out of ways to heal
I'm running out of ways to heal
I'm running out of ways to heal
I'm running out of ways to heal