The sky is just about sand
Your silence seems to have crept
I know the hour's intense
Death, what could be worse
If I had something to complain about
If I took your place, would it hurt
Something to complain about
Your silence seems to have crept
I know the hour's intense
Death, what could be worse
If I had something to complain about
If I took your place, would it hurt
Something to complain about
I never thought that I'll let
I mostly want what I get
It comes at night when it wants
You're better off in our bed
Death, what could be worse
If I had something to complain about
If I took your place, would it hurt
Something to complain about
Prefer the noise to the song
The words, they always seemed wrong
We're better off within here
Death, what could be worse
If I had something to complain about
If I took your place, would it hurt
Something to complain about
Death, what could be worse
If I had something to complain about
If I took your place, would it hurt
Something to complain about
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Individ
Carrier
No Color
Time To Die
Visiter
Beware Of The Maniacs