Plot Lyrics

The husband is loving the wife

Under the sheets on a bed

And outside the world bares the knife

And outside they swallow in dread

Behind masks they won't dare to shred

But the weight on their shoulders

Seems heavenly lower

As they plot their way to the sun

Up

She draws little hearts with her nails

Scraping the shame off his lips

And as their tongues follow the trails

His hands remain tied to her hips

And outside the world begs the tips

But they molder unconscious

Away from the torture

As they plot their way to the sun