The days are spent
|
chatting amongst the workers
|
of how cold it is outside,
|
not to mention their greatest fears
|
like finding their children neglected and naked
|
in battle for with some crack fiends,
|
like a substitute for love.
|
|
And no one notices something disrupting the normal swing of things.
|
These hands are shaking.
|
The gloves are touching me.
|
Reaper¡¯s regret
|
This memory has weakened.
|
Now I recall everything.
|
|
What¡¯s with all the commotion?
|
I swear there¡¯s nothing to see here.
|
You didn¡¯t see it coming.
|
|
Already
|
|
This is the part where the ambulance comes.
|
There¡¯s a dead man in the street;
|
we gotta take him to the morgue.
|
He can¡¯t be here;
|
he¡¯s been blocking traffic for hours.
|
We can¡¯t find him help his will
|
|
something¡¯s disrupting the normal swing of things.
|
This institution
|
will run efficiently.
|
Standard regrets
|
Send the misses our regards.
|
Sign it "deepest sympathies"
|
|
Sympathies: some patronage for the weak.
|
I swallowed some musk and now I¡¯m choking it up.
|
I refuse to say they won;
|
I win the poison all mixed up in my head,
|
On my head, On my head all those phonies were liars
|
I don¡¯t need this
|
Let¡¯s disappear.
|
Break it down (repeated x9)
|
I don¡¯t need this¡¦
|
sympathy.
|
I don¡¯t need this.
|
|
-----------------
|
A Disruption in Our Lines of Influence
|
| Cursive |
