My Hands Are Made of Spite
Ceremony
There's a conflict being fought that weighs us down as we ignore it.
We can taste it on our tongue, feel it burning through our skin.
Solutions can take away the years, still it lingers in the air we breathe.
Trying to escape the past each second sucks blood out of me.
Forced to wear all my misfortunes.
Grow up like a modern man, still I can't find time to made amends.
Such a hopeless wreck swearing with a spited tongue.
Everything I gave out, I am getting back.
When I die, I'll burn in hell, resting in a bed of sins.
Share
More from Ceremony
Making With The Stale Air
Ceremony
Learn/Without
Ceremony
Fading Sounds Of Your Life
Ceremony
Unevent Pavement
Ceremony
Birth. Conspire. Be. Upset.
Ceremony
In Facile
Ceremony
Carrying Flowers
Ceremony
Entropy: No Meaning Is Also An Answer
Ceremony
Twenty Four Hour Fever Watch
Ceremony
Plutocratic Swine Rake
Ceremony
A Blight On Mental Health
Ceremony
He-god-Has Favored Our Undertakings
Ceremony
Eraser Making Its Way Its Only Job
Ceremony
Dead Moon California (Midnight In Solitude)/The Difference Between Looking And Seeing
Ceremony
Ghosts
Ceremony
Living Hell
Ceremony
Along
Ceremony
Nail
Ceremony
Bite Down
Ceremony
Asleep
Ceremony