Claymation

Buried like the bags under your eyes
Our wild is tame in disguise
Don't mistake the deer for the headlights

Wiggles like the creases in your skin
Beneath a veil of plastic
Tonight you'll sleep under a low ceiling

Ever since the moonlight requisition
We've lived like claymation
But in the absence of a white blood cell
We'll start to believe what we tell ourselves

Tortured by the taste
She craves, she wakes
Her fate cannot be reshaped
The universe has vowed to save her face

Crippled by defeat, she grinds her teeth
And hallows her infamy
She spits but she does not shake hands with me

Ever since the moonlight requisition
We've lived like claymation
But in the absence of a white blood cell
We'll start to believe what we tell ourselves

Hold onto the hunt
Hold onto the hunt

But in the absence of a white blood cell
We'll start to believe what we tell ourselves