Chrome Lung Video (MV)

Finnigan Fink collected aerosol tins
As a kid he sucked the air out of antiperspirant
Called it sweet, insolent, inhalation, innocent eyes
Deodorising parental concern
Grew up with a gut, working half a job
Dismissing kindness with the kick of a donation bucket
Soon that bucket will be his life
The kick will be a repressed high

Cracked out, got nothing to do
Sitting in the dark, singing the blues
King of the couch, I'm coming for you
Gonna make a seance out of your room

Feet up, TV on, cartoons or pretty blondes
He searches for himself underneath his belt
He feels a prick, draws blood and hopes to god they don't smell
But the vicious incision continues to swell
Chrome lung, no fun makes the shadows dance
Blood spray becomes a stream, the shadow's advance
Higher they rise now
Turn his house into a dank storm cloud

You've been looking out the window as the seasons change
Trying to look good, trying to save face
You burnt out, bored rat in a cage
Gonna trap you in your own head space

Finnigan, face to face with an old friend
The TV speaks, but Finn turns his head
He knows those infomercials they hold no truth
The search for youth will be the death of you
'Hey you!' that voice, 'I'm here to take you away'
High up in the clouds, this time you're gonna stay
I know that you're scared, why don't you take my hand
Finnigan was never seen again

Oh boy, been long since you left home
Step into your mind, you'll find it's covered in chrome
Finn, my man the apparitions are true
We're coming for you