For some reason this greasy dead season's running circles around me.
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(Can you fell it now? Come on and feel it now!)
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I'm like a log in the fire, and shit, I don't know what to believe.
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(Can you feel it mow...come on feel it now...)
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Black soled feet and a burlap throne. I'm gonna cry 'til Daddy comes home.
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Yeah, you really never know (we really gotta go).
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I'm yellow stained rotten. I'm gone and forgotten. (It's the windpipe, they cut the windpipe...)
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I fucked the whole crew now my skin's grey and spotting. (Can you feel it yet? It's what we all get!)
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The sailors and the prostitutes are dancing on the graves
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of all the noblemen and the maidens and the slaves.
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The longshore haunts are empty. The sticky spots have dried.
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I'm drowning in my skin from the tears I never cried.
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Fuck the "Lord be with you's" and fuck the "Bless my soul's".
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Go down to the barrel and stick it in the hole.
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Stick it in the motherfucking hole!
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-----------------
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The Longshoreman's Lament
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| The Falcon |
