Amissio

Jarrett Osborn

Bit the apple through the core, then made sure to taste the poison
You can’t fare thee well no more, when you’re out on the horizon’s edge

Don’t stare at the sun, an Icarus flight, we’re all meant to come, back down.

Shoot an arrow off your head, proud the peacock you can’t capture
Dodging bullets here instead, take your number for the rapture’s call

Don’t stare at the sun, an Icarus flight, we’re all meant to come, back down

Through and through your collar blue, and when it comes to pay your dues
You never come short
Cut and dry, there’s no excuse, spin the hours, not the truth
And hold your trophy up