Here I am still intact
|
And I should give myself
|
Credit for that
|
But I have cast a stone
|
Deep into my throat
|
I squat on land my
|
Feet won't reach
|
The smell of blood and
|
Bile and bleach
|
I need a square foot
|
And a rope
|
|
We can weave we can unravel
|
We keep on sleeping
|
Right though our travels
|
We can weave we can unravel
|
Take our confusion to a
|
Much higher level
|
|
Spit it up and hand it over
|
To another child of squallor
|
Pallid wheezing
|
Lost all her color
|
Her dark circles
|
Getting darker
|
He crossed her palm
|
But nothing seems
|
To wake her from her
|
Shitty dreams
|
Now she's become just one
|
More helpless package
|
Of doom
|
|
The city is ecpecially
|
Vindictive tonight
|
That hitchhiker looks like
|
He's heading home to
|
Murder his wife
|
Well it's a proven fact they
|
Don't respond to every call
|
For help in time
|
So there she stays
|
Poor little girl
|
Lying on the floor of a
|
Dirty bathroom
|
|
No folks there's no device
|
No box of gods to descend
|
And take this tragedy
|
Tie up all the loose ends
|
|
-----------------
|
Unravel
|
Tilt |