Mixtape, Volume 4
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
This is it. The nights that stand on two the morning breakfast blues, we must not hold back what keeps us in tact. Our secret tired lonely eyes, still we keep out necks high. And while your cons and everlongs all sound the best. A plague builds from the space between your shirt and your chest. So save us the phrase "a sight for bored lives" we're just a city of hamlets, minus surprise. So from the end to the start, wolf tickets aside, welcome home a premature suicide.
Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 18, 2026
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
Yesterday I fought the moon and lost. But I am lunar now, so "we got to get out" and today I made a better version of a good diversion, more to keep us mergin'. And get head of the new crowd. The new blood, the new guns, the young sons. You say you got a better plan, well I'd love to hear it for the first time. If great minds think alike then were the hell is the fight? It's found under our shirts, we're bound to find our hands in this mess. Just leave it an open ended question, division. I am missin', the whole point. We set these homes on fire, no dealin with our trails, our secrets keep us admired and with our hands in the dirt out bodies call us liars. Division, communism, I am missin', the whole point.
Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 18, 2026