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Bloodshot (ft. James Dronfield)

from Hopeless Days by As We Break

/

lyrics

A spark is made and his eyes are gone,
And I watch as his world goes too.
Another night with a belt around his arm,
He'd sit on his throne and he'd stare at that cancerous box.

But his dreams of prosper were the only thing that could,
Unpeel his bloodshot eyes.
I remember the day when I opened my eyes to that fucking note you left.
This house is not my home.
Just a note upon the dresser and another night alone.

And so he would stay.
He'd stay in the night
Just to wait and hear her knocking but no one was coming.
And so he would wait up at night.
And he'd look to the north,
And you wouldn't believe the sights he could see.

The sights of wishful thinkers.
The sights of sluts and fucking whores and drifters.
She sits beside him as he quivers with a nervous grin on his face.
He feels ashamed but lets it happen for the thrill of the chase.
Oh how he hates this place.

She closes her eyes and holds her breath.
And he trusts her throat to his sweet fucking breath.
"I am The Devil," he said and he grabbed that fucking gun,
And he picked her teeth up one by one.

Your fucking fix is fathomed by yourself.
You're lost among the fallen leaves,
And with fucking theives who've dealt.

But the bible, oh the good book was taken off the shelf.
You're lost among the fallen leaves and you will be gone and dead as you have lived.

Faithlessness isn't the end of me.
I've lost friends to faith and theyre all gone now.
Faithlessness isn't the end of me.
I've lost friends to faith and god, they're gone and fucking dead.

And I throw up at the thought of the familiar sting that you speak of.
It makes me fucking sick, and I wish that you would...
Overdose, and let me find you there.

Laying in a puddle on the floor...
Consisting of whiskey and your fucking whore.

And I smirk at the thought,
You'll rot in the ground for the fight that you fought.
But then I realize that we're all gonna die, for the sins that we sought,
And all the irony sets in.
The bottle broken the blood on your hands, it repeats like.
The repression consists of my clothes at the cleaners,
The smell of your blood type.

fuck...

credits

from Hopeless Days, released April 20, 2013

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As We Break Woodstock, Ontario

Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues. Minds full of false hope, and dead tongues... ... more

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