Claire Cronin - Tourniquet
текст песни

It's a spell you're running from

I know it well—

sugar is sweeter in hell
Th
e cough of cymbals, a victory bell,
a parade for your years of good service
Invisible, back-breaking, not worth it

By the time I left, I was vacant:

a haunted house with no basement
If you hate the night, then replace it
with visions of light underground
Dissolvable, impossible, transparent

First it's green and green

then the weather speaks

(at least that's how it appeared to me)
Some unholy ghost in a cotton sheet
A kid disguised as a tourniquet

A sacrifice, a kitchen knife, so burn it