lyrics
In antiquated rooms, hidden years and years away
There's a portrait of me that looks better everyday
Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath, oh fuck you Sylvia Plath
Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath, turn out the light and turn up the gas
Flies on your eyes / You can't see the flies / Because they block your eyes
"My god saves", scream six billion slaves
A sea a vomit and we're riding the waves
Everyone's busy looking out for the ice berg so they turn a blind eye to their own torpedo turds
We refuse to see three steps ahead
Makes sense to blame TV for a world that's half dead
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