Langour rises reaching, to turn off the alarm
|
And there's never so much seething
|
That it can't be disarmed
|
You just stop it up,
|
Pass it on
|
Shove it to shelf it,
|
To leave it off and turnover
|
Lounging against your weapons,
|
Until your muscles find lock
|
In the ease of that position,
|
A residue of tremor passes
|
As some cherie amour suggests
|
That maybe it was time to smash things up
|
But just stop it up,
|
Pass it on
|
Shove it to shelf it,
|
To lead it on and turnover
|
I'm only sleeping
|
|
-----------------
|
Turnover
|
Fugazi |