| I see his face in the basement
|
| His purple feet above his shoulders
|
| The smell of carbon folds my nostrils
|
| I feel his face in the basement
|
| Blisters
|
| Fingers
|
| Those eyes
|
| They linger
|
| Pick skin from the fountain
|
| Which will you retroact for your war, war, war!
|
| Pick skin from the fountain
|
| Wear some glasses for your eyes that are on fire
|
| I see his face in the basement
|
| I see his face in the basement
|
| There’s more to the suffrag that will
|
| Chose what is to come for a long, long while
|
| No mor counting hundreds
|
| With the fingers that have been pointing at the
|
| Pick skin from the fountain
|
| Which will you retroact for your war, war, war!
|
| Pick skin from the fountain
|
| Wear some glasses for your eyes that are on
|
| Snake oil for the salesmen, which you buy
|
| Snake oil for the salesmen, which you buy
|
| Snake oil for the salesmen, which you buy
|
| Snake oil for the salesmen, which you buy |