I feel my teeth turning black
|
I feel my hands too cold to grasp this neck
|
My instrument at last
|
I'll strangle it to death
|
I hear the laughs outside the speaker at my attempts at serious
|
Won't hold a candle to the rest won't hold a candle to the best
|
More like a key chain flashlight busted I'm adolescent novelty
|
With awkward wording I'm generic generica
|
I feel my lungs turning black
|
I feel the smokestacks closing in
|
Dirty fingers prewritten dreams
|
Selling life as a machine
|
I feel my aching bones inside me
|
Shrivel away like artifacts
|
With an ensignia on the back
|
Lettered and taped in body bags
|
It's cutting off my circulation, they've won, I'm breaking up on the outside
|
I crumble like dust and am carried away.
|
Lets place our bets on all of our friends
|
See in the end which were despensable anyway
|
Expand the margins of these papers
|
Writing words I never meant to say
|
And I'll let go this photograph says so
|
I'll let go I swear to God of everything you told me so
|
Webster's would be pissed at my disrespect for protocol
|
Britannica's a liar the world can't be this small
|
Hands in the sack, attacked, never going back
|
To those who are taking role
|
Their potentials offer me nothing at all
|
|
-----------------
|
Keychain
|
| The Menzingers |
