Those are the dead stars
Those are the dead stars
You said you´d drown in my words
Pushed by the ink of my pen
Those Are the dead stars
He climbs to the highest branch of the tree
He won´t come down; you need to cut him down
And now your shadows will know
Why your flowers won´t grow
Those branches are denser than blood
Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him, shoot
Electric ink on a feather
Cleaned by the salt of the sea
I´ll pas it on to the insects
So they can document me
Those are the dead stars
He climbs to the highest branch of the tree
He won´t come down; you need to cut him down
And now your shadows will know
Why your flowers won´t grow
We bludgeon the cut
To open the scab
We burn off our roots and pretend that we´re sad
Repeat Until we believe that this is the life that we lead
This is the life that we´ll lead
This is the light that you´ll keep
So John, get the gun
If this is the road
We´ll have us some fun
We´ll stay up all night and say our goodbyes
These are the dead stars that march by your eyes
Razors listen
We grind our teeth
Dig our plots
Ten feet deep
That way no one has any reason to complain
Caught by the spine
We complain
Those are the dead stars