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rotten, wooden, windows.

from still fire. by andrelikehell.

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lyrics

I just want this all to stop. I just want this all to stop. I just want this all to stop. I just want this all to stop ripping through my head. they bare teeth and claws of red. all their hands beneath the bed, reach for the home they never left. if you let yourself forget, they will take your life instead. have you heard a word I said? they won't stop until we're dead. god damn you all, you knew and never said a word. we will never rest assured until you get your just deserve. darling, please speak up. we can't hear you clearly. I know it can be hard to see yourself as our light shining. (are you there?) from the other side, this must all look like a movie scene (are you listening?) we need you to say something. if it brings back my family, I would tear through this fucking screen. writings on the wall, tell of screaming in the floor, an oncoming storm, and their ongoing war. bringing new meaning to "knocking at the devil's door", where turning our keys turned our time into waiting for shattered glass inside to scatter light but all we do is bleed inside this house built on words heavier than stone. you will never sleep alone in a place they called 'home' with a basement full of bones. and now, more than ever, it has become evident, ignoring warning signs written in wet cement has become decades of destiny manifest at your doorstep. wine stains the carpet where blood and intention met; dripping like paint from the sides of your picket fence. laughter as you pay penance for your father's debt. black water filled with lament is pooling in the basement. doors, eyes, and windows, all open without consent staring at the staircase as the star makes solemn descent. slowly the haloes have switched to a vibrant red. is that the back of your eyelids? is this all in your fucking head? fictitious and superstition. folklore with hallucinations. psychotic somnambulism. figment of imagination. history speaks for itself through generations. rearranging furniture and shaking foundations. these haunts won't stop as you plead for explanation. you took their family, so they came for our children. suffering a case of inhuman visitations. possesion of the mind as their final retribution. this house is alive with a lethal apparition. rotten, wooden, windows would better suit their vision. this is not a superstition. this is not hallucinations. stuck inside that fucking television, her hand was not imagination. And I know what I saw.

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from still fire., released August 5, 2022

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andrelikehell. Indianapolis, Indiana

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