Under Your Stairs Songtext
von Jack in Water
Under Your Stairs Songtext
The fear that you feel
From under your stairs
It′s not fear that you feel
It's the guilt that we share.
It′s instinctive.
When your standing in a church
And you're given a chill
It's not the cold that you feel it′s the burdening guilt
It′s reactive.
Misunderstood but attractive.
As you kiss your friends in the middle of the night
If you're hiding in a forest
Lost all vision and sight
It′s elective
The moves that we make as collectives.
Your body loses oxygen
As we beathe too heavily around your closest friends
And i swear he says it's cool
Ansd we pretend that we′re all playing dead
This isn't the end
Egocentrically bumbling alone
Struggling along
Where′s the bodies gone
Where's the problem gone
Wake up sweating
When you wake up sweating
And you creep past the stairs
To your mother's room to tell her that you′re scared
She strokes your head, says
"Go back to bed"
This guilt that you′re feeling for being a human being
Just pretending
I mean just trying to fucus on an ending
If you're a God fearing child it′s intending
The the guilt that you feel for (sengin sending)
Intimate words at the edges of the world
The brute of a boy or the touch of a girl
It's elective
The moves that we make as collectives
Your body loses oxygen
As we breathe too heavily around your closest freinds
And i swear he says it′s cool
Then we pretend that we're all playing dead
This isn′t the end
(Sounds like?) echo sentrilay bumbling alone
Struggling along
Where's the bodies gone
Where's the profit gone
It′s the fear that you feel from under your stairs
It′s the fear that we feel
It's the guilt that we share
It′s instinctive
Misunderstood but attractive
And as you kiss your friends
In the middle of the night
If you're hiding in a forest
Lost all vision and sight
It′s elective
The moves we make as collectives
Youre body loses oxygen
As we breathe too heavily around your closest friends
And i swear he says it's cool
And we pretend that we′re all playing dead
This isn't the end.
From under your stairs
It′s not fear that you feel
It's the guilt that we share.
It′s instinctive.
When your standing in a church
And you're given a chill
It's not the cold that you feel it′s the burdening guilt
It′s reactive.
Misunderstood but attractive.
As you kiss your friends in the middle of the night
If you're hiding in a forest
Lost all vision and sight
It′s elective
The moves that we make as collectives.
Your body loses oxygen
As we beathe too heavily around your closest friends
And i swear he says it's cool
Ansd we pretend that we′re all playing dead
This isn't the end
Egocentrically bumbling alone
Struggling along
Where′s the bodies gone
Where's the problem gone
Wake up sweating
When you wake up sweating
And you creep past the stairs
To your mother's room to tell her that you′re scared
She strokes your head, says
"Go back to bed"
This guilt that you′re feeling for being a human being
Just pretending
I mean just trying to fucus on an ending
If you're a God fearing child it′s intending
The the guilt that you feel for (sengin sending)
Intimate words at the edges of the world
The brute of a boy or the touch of a girl
It's elective
The moves that we make as collectives
Your body loses oxygen
As we breathe too heavily around your closest freinds
And i swear he says it′s cool
Then we pretend that we're all playing dead
This isn′t the end
(Sounds like?) echo sentrilay bumbling alone
Struggling along
Where's the bodies gone
Where's the profit gone
It′s the fear that you feel from under your stairs
It′s the fear that we feel
It's the guilt that we share
It′s instinctive
Misunderstood but attractive
And as you kiss your friends
In the middle of the night
If you're hiding in a forest
Lost all vision and sight
It′s elective
The moves we make as collectives
Youre body loses oxygen
As we breathe too heavily around your closest friends
And i swear he says it's cool
And we pretend that we′re all playing dead
This isn't the end.
Writer(s): William Clapson, Oliver Chapman, Warren Woodcraft Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com