A Primary Question Lyrics

The burnt mouth cries on your shoulder blades

And "death is collectible", it says

Tell your maid not to call



A primary question, a primary answer

You give

A secondary question, a secondary answer

You take

You try to be faultless



It lives and squeals for some sad delight

It makes the hands bleed into the lights

Tell your maid not to call



A primary question, a primary answer

You give

A secondary question, a secondary answer

You take

You try to be faultless

Try to be faultless



A primary question, a primary answer

You give

A secondary question, a secondary answer

You take

Tell your maid not to call