rough hands - symptoms of regression lyrics
take my jury to the provinces
a place where my armoured touch is being
stripped back by unfamiliar clarity
i secede
secede with the ones that have bled
the ones that formed out of
the love that keep me on this side of the looking gl-ss
i secede
i’m wanting more
i’m wanting more
i’m wanting more
of this feeling
feelings dissolve away
regions i feel i’ve neglected
the place where my reasons run from being
cut down by the regiments of my unconscious mind
secede with the ones that bled
the ones despised for the longest regrets
i’ve carried around with me
i secede
when the end hints at it’s first breath
the final piece of cynical armour is removed
the scars of every buried memory are brought to light
and the prospects of hope are extinguished
as the feeling dissolves away
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