Paroles: Cold War Kids. Up In Rags. Pregnant.

Sliver to see
speaking in tongues
deft as a surgeon's knife
cloven through bone

pregnant with doubt
you figured out
tricks of the trade to make
a whisper shout
mouth full of sweets
rotting your teeth
lift up the rug and sweep
it underneath

you... were... breme...
when... you... don't...

believe

(Thanks to ryan for these lyrics)