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Horse The Band

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Horse The Band

Purple

Lyricist：Dashiell Arkenstone, Erik Engstrom, David Isen, Chris Prophet, Nathan Winneke

Sweet sweet pain like a thundercloud
But tears are rain full fists slapping thudding
Banging raging wanting not to be weak
With woe empty hands

She's on the floor, on the floor
She slams her empty hands like thunder
It rings in her ears, slapping thunder
Splashing in the puddles of her tears

Lungs heaving from the crashing dying dreaming
That was ripped from her heart
While beating and dropped all red and sloppy here
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On this clean tile floor

Now there is a hole inside
Where the ghosts and demons hide
Whispering white wilting words of woe
Hungry ugly crunchy things

Horrible nasty perverted things in her head
Her mother whispers, 'Spreading like a whore'
Weeping wilted pile heaving
Weak with tears and dead with dreaming
Wanting to be wanted and wanting nothing more