that had knocked the pins down
these shoes gripped the floor
in the silhouette of dying
dancing on the corpses ashes
yeah, they had plans for him
they had spun the last of the pimps
polyester, satin nailed jewellery lips
while the guillotine laughed again
dancing on the corpses ashes
and the paramedics fell into the wound
like a rehired scab at a barehanded plant
an anesthetic penance beneath
the hail of the contraband
dancing on the corpses ashes
on my way
nails broke and fell
into the
wishing well, wishing well
wishing well, wishing well
they had defected and been excommunicated
and all the pulses were subverted
and they made sure that the obituaries
showed pictures of smoke stacks
dancing on the corpses ashes
a vivid dissection that mocked
the strut of vivisection
a semi-automatic colony
and a silencing that still walks the streets
dancing on the corpses ashes
in the company of wolves
was a stretcher made of
cobblestone curfews
the federales perform
their custodial customs well
dancing on the corpses ashes
intravenously polite it was the walkie-talkies
that had knocked the pins down
these shoes gripped the floor
in the silhouette of dying
dancing on the corpses ashes
yeah, they had plans for him
they had spun the last of the pimps
polyester, satin nailed jewellery lips
while the guillotine laughed again
dancing on the corpses ashes
and the paramedics fell into the wound
like a rehired scab at a barehanded plant
an anesthetic penance beneath
the hail of the contraband
dancing on the corpse's ashes,
dancing on the corpse's ashes
callous heels
numbed in travel
endless maps made
by their scalpels
on my way
nails broke and fell
into the
wishing well, wishing well
wishing well, wishing well
At the Drive-in
1 komentarz:
poezja jest zła
a śpiewana jest jeszcze bardziej zła i tyle
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