This Corpse I Call Home Lyrics by Post Funeral Sex
Dark skies ahead
And I’m scared of getting wet
I’m pathetic, I’m small
One person, I will fall
Since when did the moon look so beautiful?
Oh, you know I’m a mess
Choke myself on my regrets
And yes, I confess I’m scared of what comes next
But I will lie and say that I’m doing my best
I’m not an artist, I’m a mess
I’m a mess
I’m not an artist, I’m a mess
I’m a mess
I’m not an artist, I’m a mess
I’m a mess
I’m not an artist, I’m a mess
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Post Funeral Sex Lyrics – This Corpse I Call Home