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As I through the coldness
You feel the savoury
Your sweet engine will my tumours into gold
The has an illness
It is a called man
Crawl into the bitter skies of again

You deserve
You deserve
I nothing
Arachnid

of paralysis
Melancholic abrasions my nerves
I cherish the way you cleanse my troubled
Sever my
in an abyss they freeze like my
we have the pinnacle of infinity too soon

You deserve
You more
I deserve
Arachnid
shelter

Now all I can trust is
The of pain feel so real
Maybe one day I'll the heat of your sun again
Slowly I
stitch up my lungs and leave me
I'll be thinking of you whilst for my last breath

You better
You more
I nothing
shelter

Your sweet will turn my tumours into gold
We will gulp we are old
T.H.C.