Subtle все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Your blood owns no bones,
with mailmen in your home
holding a kinfe to your poems.
To hollow all you've sown
and holler goner you'rou owned...

and supposing you was meant to be bent born some sorta alw man,
with the poise of an intellectual and hunch of a clerk,

Is this a something serious as setting bone,
you being of the lightest blinkings in infinity.
And does this restore a gape where your will would be.
Does this draw a grey where your reds would bleed,
Where onces there was only black...

And so it seems being set free,
is a comples and unalterable series of captures and release.

When last we left him, our hero, yes
Was recently diagnosed as being last haver
Of a most unusual sort of blood
Quite surprised by the news himself
(And still the genuinely unlucky man)
He now wields his one and only body bag
Of this, his now very rare blood