Suffer the children who question every value. I spoke with questions, a program to machine. We have a blueprint. The suit don't fit, We've split the seams.
Move down south. Get it. Wells dried out. Desert. Taps turned off. My mind's cloudy with heat. The weather blues. Lights gone out. Dammit. Paid my dues.
It's my shout. This wine is melting the bounds. Between good taste. And what I might say. Matador. Swing your blood red cape. Ole, Ole. I was born an asshole.