| The smell of your body
|
| Is making me heave and gag
|
| I thought you were candy
|
| Just like your nature, my good man
|
| So now you can’t leave me
|
| Just like the rest of them did
|
| As we sink into the East Bay, Brooklyn dirge
|
| Thank God I’m done with this
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| So go ask your Chomskies
|
| What these systems produce
|
| The cracks in commandments
|
| That we can slip through
|
| You develop a callus
|
| When you’re being lied to
|
| But now my pain is all just gravy
|
| As you drown beneath the waves with me and sing
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| Now we are the sediment
|
| Sediment
|
| I wake up with a humming glow of a hundred Percocets
|
| I have the arms of a baby, veins of an old lady
|
| My vision is runny and profound
|
| There’s a still lake we sit behind
|
| You turn to me and ask if I’d like you to stay
|
| That we can anything here
|
| I say «I should have dissolved in you, but I made us statistics
|
| They can write us off, but I don’t fucking deserve you»
|
| You look confused, but after a very awkward pause
|
| You kiss my cheek and then walk off
|
| Left alone now, I start to age backwards
|
| And I’m viciously hungering for someone
|
| To love me the way my parents never did
|
| There must be someone who can somewhere
|
| Maybe I’ll take a walk and see, after all it’s so big
|
| It goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on |