TORCH
stick to your skinand hold on tightand tell me we’ll make it homealright tonightthat firelight it could’ve been ussome nights I wish it were stick to your teethyour guns and
Spine
Some days I wish I smoked for imagefor release of this stress some days I wish I drank got drunkrelieve this stress somedays I wish I could lose myself in
the CAZOO.
I always knew that California would die screamingI always knew that California – she would fightI always dreamed that our captors – they’d die slowlyOh my Sweet Bai Yun –
Up In Arms.
Camouflage and lying schemasmisdirect the fiendson the veranda They formed up in the Living roomchromatophores flashing codes andpropaganda Mischief begets malicegrowing thumbs upon the enslaved miceharvest digits while they drilland
I’ll Make You Sorry You Said It.
I’ll make you sorry you said itwipe the pride off your stunted face I’ll make you sorry you said itwipe the grin off your stupid face I’ll make you sorry
Clap Hands (FB Edition).
Sing singthee and Ifiremen shine the con artist’s namefind the Cincinnati in the Sabbath linehanging up the bottom fora bottom full of rain clap hands.the Clap hands.clap hands.the Clap hands.
Landline.
Unpaid bills are mountingoh Hell that’s so clichebut the fountain of my youthseems to be giving all of it’s youth awaytoday and I don’t need a showertoday’s a day to
Dead of It.
It’s a hot and stinking winterAnd we’re all out in the yardOur faces to our palmsGetting those full coverage scars cause it’s been such a pleasant dayand it’s been such
everything hurts.
Doom scrolling is the best new word for the feelingsBeating words into swords beyond f-words and meaningIt’s demeaning all this talk of babies and GodWho faked it in the mangerwho
Everything I Remember About The War.
my grandfather told me about his boathe might’ve said ship I didn’t really knowHe said he ran up to the front as the planes roared inHe might’ve said “back” It