| You paint your own tv on the wall
|
| Carve out insects to feed us all
|
| Lights flash by and the fast world echoes your thoughts
|
| Your compass led you to the edge of a lake
|
| You’ll singe your nuts down there if you take
|
| Such bad advice from the love gods of hate
|
| You’ll get cold
|
| You get burned, you get cold
|
| On the plush green rug in the lime green light
|
| Eyes like white stones in black light
|
| I promise you everything that you like
|
| I go «mississippi kite»
|
| Gloss assails us then dims
|
| Comic book nights, la grim
|
| The hollywood martians, lucky stiffs, fucking wing
|
| You told me enough times you can’t give me enough rope
|
| To hang myself one time, but I can always hope
|
| You come down on me so hard that I choke and go
|
| You get burned, you get cold
|
| Meanwhile, I feed you boric acid and air
|
| Lemon drops, snow cream, speckled eggs
|
| The sweat seeps in through a crack in your head
|
| You go «mississippi kite» |