France
So I walked into the haze and a million dirty ways. Now I see you lying there, like a lie low losing air. Black rocks and shoreline sand, still that summer I cannot bare. And I wipe the sand of my arms. Spanish Sahara, the place that you´d wanna leave the horror here, forget the horror here, leave it all down here, it´s future rust and then it´s future dust.
Now the waves they drag you down, carry you to broken ground. Though I find you in the sand, wipe you clean with dirty hands. So god damn this boiling space. I´m the fury in your head, I´m the fury in your bed, I´m the ghost in the back of your head.
Forget the horror here, forget the horror here, leave it all down here. It´s future rust and then it´s future dust.
Choir of furies in your head, choir of furies in your bed, I´m the ghost in the back of your head.
Now the waves they drag you down, carry you to broken ground. Though I find you in the sand, wipe you clean with dirty hands. So god damn this boiling space. I´m the fury in your head, I´m the fury in your bed, I´m the ghost in the back of your head.
Forget the horror here, forget the horror here, leave it all down here. It´s future rust and then it´s future dust.
Choir of furies in your head, choir of furies in your bed, I´m the ghost in the back of your head.
