Black Market Radio Broken Ornament
She dresses black like funeral mass,
Her closet full of famous bones...
She feels the steel against her back,
Afraid to call at all, afraid to call it home...
She tears the walls down with her pain.
Her infant tears cannot replace...
She fights a devil with no name,
But knows him by his face,
She knows him by his face...
Liar...
Now she's ready for the good life.
She turns her gun on yesterday...
Now she's ready for the good life.
Things that never change will
Never be the same...
She's tired of living for today.
Tired of lines across her face...
If all that's equal was the same.
She'd put him in her place...
Afraid that tomorrow might not be
There to meet her...
Afraid that tomorrow is yesterday...
