The Style Is Death
๐ต 506 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:57 duration
๐ ID: 9883218
๐ Lyrics
Under the cold of tears she'll decay and be warm.
The style is death. A white rose in a morphine dream.
A joke to amuse life. Goodbye into a snowstorm.
While you shake the thoughts, memories of conversation.
Come back the line like eager sadness.
A knife hollows them out. Hollows them out.
A thin skin of black letters. A thin skin of black letters.
I make myself sick. Born with thoughts of disappointment.
Hands out, palms dry. Give me something to grasp.
False truth or fake hope. We say yes to death
The style is death. A white rose in a morphine dream.
A joke to amuse life. Goodbye into a snowstorm.
While you shake the thoughts, memories of conversation.
Come back the line like eager sadness.
A knife hollows them out. Hollows them out.
A thin skin of black letters. A thin skin of black letters.
I make myself sick. Born with thoughts of disappointment.
Hands out, palms dry. Give me something to grasp.
False truth or fake hope. We say yes to death
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[01:05.17] Under the cold of tears she'll decay and be warm.
[01:12.60] The style is death. A white rose in a morphine dream.
[01:20.69] A joke to amuse life. Goodbye into a snowstorm.
[01:27.92] While you shake the thoughts, memories of conversation.
[01:51.63] Come back the line like eager sadness.
[01:59.48] A knife hollows them out. Hollows them out.
[02:06.89] A thin skin of black letters. A thin skin of black letters.
[02:22.10] I make myself sick. Born with thoughts of disappointment.
[02:30.50] Hands out, palms dry. Give me something to grasp.
[02:41.37] False truth or fake hope. We say yes to death
[03:31.23]
[01:12.60] The style is death. A white rose in a morphine dream.
[01:20.69] A joke to amuse life. Goodbye into a snowstorm.
[01:27.92] While you shake the thoughts, memories of conversation.
[01:51.63] Come back the line like eager sadness.
[01:59.48] A knife hollows them out. Hollows them out.
[02:06.89] A thin skin of black letters. A thin skin of black letters.
[02:22.10] I make myself sick. Born with thoughts of disappointment.
[02:30.50] Hands out, palms dry. Give me something to grasp.
[02:41.37] False truth or fake hope. We say yes to death
[03:31.23]