Rusty Scissors

We are shit stains on a brand new curtains
Dirt in the velvet tissue,
within every tiny loom another face
shouting out what seems to be the issue
Our voices entwine together
Like the most annoying kind of music
That keeps on building up the atmosphere
Just to let you down
Expanding, growing, getting bigger
These are the words of today,
Still we lack the ability to avoid getting sicker
and we're so stuck in our ways
Somewhat strange, one might say,
If he'd see what we dug up today
The sins of our own fathers,
All piled up in a wooden box
We dug it up, we broke the lock
we brought it all upon ourselves.
We took the hammer, placed our hands on the table
And crushed all our fingers just to see what we're able to do
And it doesn't matter how we try to win or lose
It's all just random encounters between the two
We move back and forth
We lose all control
We take another disguise
When the truth is revealed to their eyes
We are made of mischief
We're all so discrete
Our hands are tied to our own feet
We're all hanging by a single thread
And someones on the other end
sawing the rope with a pair of rusty scissors