Hey Angel. Consider your position. Framed to be consumed. Savory. Savoring your sympathy. Hey angel. Fly over. And bless me. See you feign surprise. I'm all eyes.
Hey angel, consider your position. Afraid to be consumed. Savory. Savory, your sympathy. . Hey angel, fly over and bless me. See you feign surprise. And I'm all eyes.
Listen -. There is no use in trying to explain. Listen -. Is it your fault she made those cuts again?. To let out blood she thought it made her bad. Or maybe just to cut you out instead.
Old Mule by Arthur Smith (Spoken). . Old mule, you're the son of a donkey. And I'm in the image of God. Yet, here we work, hitched together. Toilin' and tillin' the sod.
Blue-eyed bloody lullaby. Less a lesson than an alibi. Shot from only one side. Sanitize then canonize. . Annex and index. Mirror too-perfect. . Histories.
She walks forward over, over and backward. Forward over and over and backward. This meeting takes on a life of its own and my position is. . Thoughtless and it goes.
I don't want to talk. I roll my red eyes back. Closed and latched. Still you watch. . Sweep from left to right. Frame six hundred nine. It never lies.
Tracing oil trails and streaks of black,. serpentine, to certainties that never leave you.. Impact at the start of the escape,. far away, where no-one's coming to relieve you..
Take me down to the desert sea. I don't want to wait, I want to leech my memory. Like bones by the desert sea. Bleached until no one can read their history.
Clean could still be the big white knight. A man so blessed with foresight forseight. . The page wants to stay white. Fixed. Lost. . Clean martial rhythm's been locked in.
Fear as friend I wish I'd never kissed;. faded hand to mouth as catalyst.. Technicolored static sender,. secondguess my love for danger.. Bold-face it with a hand of 10 by 10..
Said you were. 10 feet tall, yeah and bulletproof. 10 feet tall, yeah and bulletproof. You can live that way. But it's hard to move. It's a little maze, little true.
Stretched on this city's grid. Sometimes I feel so well hid. Pinned to this city's grid. No sign to end or begin this capillary life. This capillary life, this capillary life.
A minute, a second. A half-life, a minus. A segment, a blinder. Elective detention. . It's secession time. Paid for by cutting backwards. It's election time.
Entropy's in, embroidered on skin. corrupt, latch-hook thin for show. You're in at dusk. They clean you up until you glow. . Absenter, absenter. . Secede, recede, I'll mark your retreat.