| You day her out through a winter of owe…
|
| You can stay your ground in the littles of woe.
|
| When one releases themselves to defending their portion of spotlight,
|
| How will he know what must be planned around
|
| And what must be slaughtered outright?
|
| Stripped cured and worn in order to protect you,
|
| From its likeness or opposite fate,
|
| Such are the toils of skull space
|
| And it’s no-place-to-ache.
|
| Your soooooo…
|
| Dangerous day dangerous
|
| And so…
|
| You flay R M pro quo
|
| (Translation: you flay ARM for what)
|
| Have you ever felt led into the black?
|
| Have you ever fed entire men to a path?
|
| Obsession and fetish are an ending man’s kind,
|
| And then-again mark
|
| The difference in you living out a Self,
|
| And a Self being lived in.
|
| This is the soft lip of NothingMuch in men,
|
| As over choice they bend,
|
| As choosing chisel character from the dark
|
| From the island-goner mind and its ancient arch-ape heart
|
| Your soooooo…
|
| Dangerous day dangerous
|
| And so…
|
| You flay R M pro quo
|
| (Translation: you flay ARM for what)
|
| (You're feeling fire in the teeth that you dream with
|
| And you couldn’t fear wider if they movie screened it.)
|
| Your soooooo…
|
| Dangerous day dangerous
|
| And so…
|
| You flay R M pro quo |