paradox - squalloscope lyrics
our milk carton child the apocalypse
a glorified guillotine strapped to our heads
some wine fueled nights we look up and get a grip
but there’s no string, there’s no skin on our fingertips
getting uncomfortable around here, it’s the least i can do
i built a house in paradox just for us to break into
the whole town is out in their sunday shoes
to tiptoe around the fuse
and we burn it all down
we raise it up
turn it around
there’s a knife fight in the street, i bring yarrow and sage
i don’t know how this works but so far no one’s complaining
i got matchsticks in my slacks, i want my cut of the empire
what a time to be alive, what a time to be a liar
and we burn it all down
we raise it up
turn it around
and we burn it all down
we raise it up
burn it all down
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