| pet sounds filling pet peeve void’s
|
| black and white tv with the sound turned down
|
| is it mono or stereo?
|
| lending aneurysm satisfaction in the
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| fruitless gaze of your mona lisa lazy smile
|
| trick ourselves in portable stanzas
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| black russian throated on this
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| guillotine cancer
|
| how steep we are
|
| but there’s just no telling
|
| just no telling
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| savion is under heel clicking
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| morse code through movie stills again
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| the sky had blackened with carrion birds
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| pinstriped suits and cigarettes tapped danced
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| through the tepid burlesque
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| their mouths were parched with excess thirst
|
| bridge and chorus candy curse
|
| still they snag through the strepthroat verse
|
| pet sounds filling pet peeve voids
|
| black and white tv with the sound turned down
|
| like breathing blood through lungs of czar’s child
|
| if i had a dollar for every plot that you made
|
| in this bed of nails you make
|
| how steep
|
| how steep we are |