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Seams
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Creepoid
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Green trees lining all the streets... they hide things - I wonder what's beneath those perfect little leaves. Lift me up, I wanna leave. I taste a sickness in the stream. My vision's coming in. My mind is slipping in. Hold me high enough to reach the seams holding back the real thing - I hear the vultures sing. Lift me up, I wanna leave. I taste a sickness in the stream. My vision's coming in. My mind is slipping... The seams are ripping & all this is nothing. Nothing at all...
SEAMS - seams
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