| We could legalise our heads, darling
|
| We could advertise the piecemeal of our chests
|
| We could recognise our debt
|
| Just to overstep the costume of our sound
|
| There’s a course that crowns the able intent
|
| Any calling and we see how we fare
|
| Things started breeding when we swerved off the page
|
| The final hour of the juvie malaise
|
| Was destined to sassy violence
|
| Watch her slink with her groan
|
| Oh pity that she cheated
|
| We wasted all this time
|
| We learn our idols in their homes
|
| We watch the eyes as they smile at themselves
|
| We tried to understand their smells, Hoah
|
| Cuffer solved it only after we get some names
|
| There’s a course that crowns the able intent
|
| Any calling and we see how we fare
|
| Things fell to pieces with the space of it all
|
| For all the reasons I can barely recall
|
| But have to, Refuel the wreckage
|
| Stuck in questioning code
|
| Dear God I tried to fix it
|
| It’s cut off diamonds, down and then
|
| Left to freeze in the cold
|
| How did we get so dreadful weak?
|
| How do we not make a sound?
|
| We scattered neatly into __ routine
|
| From all the practise I can barely repeat
|
| I watched it
|
| The final moments of a mutinous dream
|
| Face down in carnal treason
|
| We wasted so much time |