The Holy Tightrope Songtext
von The Wytches

Your late teens are hanging on a wall,
Lowered down to the first five rows.
Convinced me to leave her on her own,
Every breath like a curtain closed.


But I see legs they′re up in the air,
There's speech writers with all my tongues.
The holy throne heirs in the basement,
Saddle up me like I was a pavement.

Between scenes there′s dealers making calls, Make a living off of perfect flaws.
The sweat drips while you dribble down the phone,
Innocence left clean off the bone.

But I see legs they're up in the air,
There's speech writers with all your girls.
Holy tightrope, shameless catwalk,
saddle up me, like I was a pavement.