My little trouble is always in controlnA head full of poppies and tangles grownA wicked little angle, a compass and a smilenNailed my shadow to the wallnIt was my funeral, your trialnnA castaway girlnIn a pirated worldnA scar and a curse from her mouth to her wristnI fell for a castaway kissnnMy little trouble is always in controlnEyes of tiny diamons, prisoners of coalnCall me a heathen with strings that stop and startnPuts a crack in my perceptionsnPulls a sober world apartnnA castaway pearlnIn a pirated worldnA scar and a curse from her mouth to her wristnI fell for a castaway kiss