Pretty Girls Make Graves The Teeth Collector
I'm unfolding little scraps of paper
I'm dotting 'I's' and crossing 'T's'
Like a ghost, you were the gardener
That snuck in and planted seed
Decay, your words acidic taste
I'm unfolding little scraps of paper
But I'll pluck you like a dead bug from my feet
No more voices on the radio
No more waiting by the telephone
Arrows aim to crack rib cages
But your venom's weak in my blood
Your poison scabs, coagulated
Your hardest try is never enough
Decay, your words acidic taste
I'm unfolding little scraps of paper
But I'll pluck you like a dead bug from my feet
The tooth is rotten, yank it out
Your words are cancer in my mouth
This captain's ship is going down
