Testo: Scapegoat. These Cards We're Dealt. Potpourri And Gasoline.

Suddenly I've found My lungs lie dormant in a burial ground Like a Bosnian bloodhound, inside A woman's vultures eat our heart but not our hide All within the pause between words Waiting for you to talk You're tearing this heart apart Cardiac arrest waiting for you to talk Two sides align with arms stretched out I drew the line between the humble & the proud As my digits grace the battleground, I sigh I've gasolined myself without a match to light Forget the literal Look a little deeper in these words (heaven, open) Before you talk You're tearing my heart apart Cardiac arrest waiting for you to talk potpourri and gasoline smells so sweet Were only fifty feet away, with no brakes Hand crafted, hand made, a hands destruction, I break.