ghosts gone wrong - seatbelt lyrics
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strung up nice and neat
by freckles and fingernails
these bodies are but hosts
for ghosts gone wrong
divine embodiment
ripping at the seams
resisting existance
for so long…
collectively self-concious
we mourn ourselves the most
picking at the st-tches
’til they bleed
bruised knees and
a broken spirit
masochism turned out to be
the perfect lil’ monster to feed
but what are we
to do if not forget?
lost in the afterglow
of several uncertainies
these bodies are but hosts
for ghosts let free
the rising tide of particles
has made a mess of me
alive when the lightning
first struck the sea
but what are we
to do if not forget?
what are we to do?
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