String — Tunng

hang my eyes up on a hook swells the panic; i can't look inside my own skin, i fail to find my- self again

a million faces look the same, and their replies evaporate there's no soul behind these eyes, if they can't glue me back again

ghosts drop hints and whisper things, just blood and bone, and bits of string; blood and bone, and bits of string

family portrait on the wall quiet confusion, circle this: i can feel my mother's hand, but i can't find her face to kiss

there's no soul behind these eyes, if they can't glue me back again someone's life inside a box; nothing here resets the clocks

ghosts drop hints and whisper things, just blood and bone, and bits of string blood and bone, and bits of string