Lyrics

The burnt mouth cries on your shoulder blades
And "death is collectable", it says
Tell your maid not to call

A primary question, a primary answer
You give
A secondary question, a secondary answer
You take
You try to be faultless

It lives and squeals for some sad delight
It makes the hands bleed into the lights
Tell your maid not to call

A primary question, a primary answer
You give
A secondary question, a secondary answer
You take
You try to be faultless
Try to be faultless

A primary question, a primary answer
You give
A secondary question, a secondary answer
You take
Tell your maid not to call...