This Means You
The Act
Words will flood the gates,
Some will mange to pour through the cracks,
Conducting a symphony of sordid sounds
which turns this silence into chaos.
All hell broke loose.
Pull that trick out of your sleeve,
pour a drink,
put on that face.
A fraud born, you're doing fine.
Background music in my head,
could release those inner voices.
Theyíve been telling lies and spreading fear
walls surrounding you hold your pain,
but they crack down, the ashes fall upon you.
Pull that trick out of your sleeve,
pour a drink,
put on that face.
A fraud born, you're doing fine.
This electric pulse
Fools those who seem to care.
Pull that trick out of your sleeve,
pour a drink,
put on that face.
A fraud born, you're doing fine
