|
Fake yer death, if you need to |
|
To afford distractions from the living, oh |
|
You can make a body out of plaster soaked in your own blood |
|
Then leave the body in your bed |
|
Covered with the sheet like you were murdered in your sleep |
|
You can burn your house down and leave some bones |
|
Make sure the bones look something like your own |
|
Dig them up |
|
Steal them from the grave of someone your age |
|
You take these bones and place them |
|
Inside the plaster soaked in your blood |
|
Then leave the body in your bed |
|
Covered with the sheet like you were murdered in your sleep |
|
You can burn your house down and leave some bones |
|
Make sure the bones look something like your own |
|
Should our little crime go amiss |
|
Shall they see the bodies are not flesh? |
|
We wait until they're buried |
|
Until we rest, my love, until we rest |
|
And we can hide in the room like we've always wanted to |
|
To work on what we love, to work on what we love |
|
We won't tell anyone we're not dead, so |
|
We can hide away to work on what we love |
|
Until we rest, my love, until we rest |
