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• Artiste: Broken Social Scene
• Titre: Death Cock
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Trouble, my trouble, it's death Sounds like disease with regret A vacuum's heart or out bits Delicate seizures and all the rest Trouble, my trouble, mourir Left my lungs with the fear Test patterns on the air I killed you, I did it, my dear There's a common law... Trouble, my trouble, it's death Skin like a sidewalk that left Desperate cum is in our bed A little while, I failed you at best Failed you at best Failed you at best Of course, silence's gonna cost a little I like shadows in my sleep Coming in here, caught yourself on the fast you said, "Comments are gorgeous, please don't speak" I decide who lives in my best room I got windows to protect my breed Put down your spirit and tell me that there's something desirable for you in me Mourir, mourir Mourir, mourir You were never supposed to go and love and ditch us by the corpse Some signs, some sections, and our favorite eskimo How long has it been since your dad locked that door? Set your piss on fire and let it all go Mourir, mourir Mourir, mourir Mourir, mourir Mourir, mourir Mourir, mourir Mourir, mourir