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Dirty Jar of Flies
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Take charge
A total of 1 users rated on average: 5.0 stars
Charts position
» highest in charts: # 1059 (126,959 songs currently listed in Acoustic)
» highest in sub-genre: # 179 (18,925 songs currently listed in Acoustic > Acoustic Rock)
» highest in sub-genre: # 179 (18,925 songs currently listed in Acoustic > Acoustic Rock)
Lyrics
[Verse 1]:
I'll give you a silent farewell,
because I never got to say goodbye,
my only hope is that the man in the box,
found serenity in a jar of flies.
I stay away from all the places,
I would never go again,
when you have heaven beside you,
there's no excuses for what's within.
[Chorus]:
Am I inside the freak who's bleeding,
or has he died,
and brushed away the dirt?
The angry chair I can't remember,
was born again,
when the junkhead is hurt.
[Verse 2]
All the head creeps,
always seem to have got me wrong,
when the rooster hides down in a hole,
the nutshell was grinding all along.
The right turn was the only real thing,
and the shame in you is a sea of sorrow,
we all die young but the killer is me,
this nothin' song is over now,
and lying season ended tomorrow.
[Chorus]:
Am I inside the freak who's bleeding,
or has he died,
and brushed away the dirt?
The angry chair I can't remember,
was born again,
when the junkhead is hurt.
I'll give you a silent farewell,
because I never got to say goodbye,
my only hope is that the man in the box,
found serenity in a jar of flies.
I stay away from all the places,
I would never go again,
when you have heaven beside you,
there's no excuses for what's within.
[Chorus]:
Am I inside the freak who's bleeding,
or has he died,
and brushed away the dirt?
The angry chair I can't remember,
was born again,
when the junkhead is hurt.
[Verse 2]
All the head creeps,
always seem to have got me wrong,
when the rooster hides down in a hole,
the nutshell was grinding all along.
The right turn was the only real thing,
and the shame in you is a sea of sorrow,
we all die young but the killer is me,
this nothin' song is over now,
and lying season ended tomorrow.
[Chorus]:
Am I inside the freak who's bleeding,
or has he died,
and brushed away the dirt?
The angry chair I can't remember,
was born again,
when the junkhead is hurt.
