Cut the rock moon out with scissors
But you can’t trace the shape of the gas sun…
Katabatic winds
Predatory cold
It’s only been days
And already winter’s old
Clashing clouds
Dire straits
The world’s in such a fever
It can’t see straight
Cut the rock moon out with scissors
But you can’t trace the shape of the gas sun…
Feel God’s breath upon your back as he blows you towards death
Blows you to death
The world’s in such a fever
It can’t see straight