Broken Social Scene

Death Cock

Broken Social Scene

Old Dead Young: B-Sides & Rarities


Trouble, my trouble, it's death
Sounds like disease with regret
Vacuum's heart or out bits
Delicate seizures and all the rest

Trouble, my trouble, mourir
Left my lungs with the fear
Test patterns on you
I killed you, I did it, my dear

Trouble, my trouble, it's death
Skin like a sidewalk that left
Desperate cum is in our bed
A little while, I failed you at best
(I failed you at best)
(I failed you at best)

Of course, silence's gonna cost a little
I like shadows in my sleep
Coming in here, caught yourself on the fast you said
"Comments are gorgeous, please don't speak"
I decide who lives in my best room
I got windows to protect my breed
Put down your spirit and tell me there's something desirable for you and me

(That's it)
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir
Mourir, mourir

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