You leave stains on my windows.
You pick the locks on my doors.
This rooms a place of silence.
This halls a stage for whores.
I say blacks not your color.
As you paint my face, you paint my face to the floor, to the floor!
Its cold in here, its cold in here.
Its cold in here, its cold in here
Strange dancing in the corner.
Your rhythmic liberties.
I hide my stamp collection,
as you smash my glass figurines.
Its cold in here, its cold in here.
Its cold in here, its cold in here
Its cold in here, its cold in here.
Its cold in here, its cold in here
Enter the heart, and plunge the heel through the chest.
The heart beats faster without frost on the edge.
Enter the heart, and bind the limbs to the bed.
Its cold in here, its cold in here.
Its cold in here, its cold in here
Its cold in here, its cold in here.
Its cold in here, its cold in here
Its cold in here, its cold in here.
Its cold in here, its cold in here
Artist: Advent
Artist: Ruth
Artist: Zoetrope