.We come to the killers, for the cure.
Slow, cold blade.
It runs down the center of your spine.
Pleading hunch.
That you're running out of time.
Something's wrong.
And your mouth's stitched up shut.
Like waking up with your head against the gun.
See.
Have you been looking for lyrics of your favorite song, too long? Lyrics has got them all listed out for you by your favorite songwriters, artists neatly arranged by albums you love. Simply,Choose an album, artist or lyricist and start discovering lyrics of your favorite songs.
Allow To View All Exclusive Content & Notifications 🔔