Clean Lyric
Paragraph Lyric
Daringly we bring it to a boil
Bearing all the flesh before we court
Your skin is on fire
My mouth is wide open

Intuition imperfected
In decisions discerning you
What do I do? What do I do?
My hand of anger, your lips of blue

Seems like now that the chances we make
Fair as well as the chances we fake
The fate of the facts is the force we follow
The front is fine but the back is
Too shallow and vain
Why do I try to complain?
Daringly we bring it to a boil   Bearing all the flesh before we court   Your skin is on fire   My mouth is wide open      Intuition imperfected   In decisions discerning you   What do I do? What do I do?   My hand of anger, your lips of blue      Seems like now that the chances we make   Fair as well as the chances we fake   The fate of the facts is the force we follow   The front is fine but the back is   Too shallow and vain   Why do I try to complain?