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letra de this is my crowd - dream the electric sleep

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this is my crowd, bite marks all around
t–thing their tunes, before they make a sound

to fall into graces, with such saintly faces
it is the fury shaking loud
we are the servants, to the sound

this is my crowd, sharpest tongues in town
cutting their chords, before they hit the ground

this is my crowd, ego trips collide
bare foot and raw, meat packing heat near high street

to fall into graces, with such saintly faces
it is the fury shaking loud
we are the servants, to the sound

this is our beat, marking walls in time
spraying with red paint canisters on lime street

to fall into graces, with such saintly facеs
it is the fury shaking loud. we are thе servants, to the sound

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