You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny. Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide. You're sick, sick as all the secrets that you deny. Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide.
There's an art in seclusion. Production in depression. If a stranger turns up missing, this song is my confession. Tell the tales of the trail of dead, lovers learn from slower hands. Losing self in myself, inner demons make demands.
Good man.
Originally it's from a halloween photo shooting.. haha xD