I Raise My Craving Hands Songtext / Lyric

The Polaroid of perfection, demirep and stained with hate

Well wounded I stuttle the crowd with my vogue lack of faith

The up and coming vendetta, the # vultures' extremes

Spruce me up with a sweet little plaything, spruce me fucking supreme

I raise my craving hands, to the image of her promised land

The succulent teenage cunt, tempteth me to exeunt

Wish me well, wish me hell... all I ever wanted was a story to tell

The absence of goals, the lack of control

The absence of aim and the present fame...

The absence of goals, the lack of control

Everyone knows I should be extolled

The absence of aim and the present fame

Everyone would sell their souls to play this game

... it's the game we play...