see the love and affection, it was camouflaged as a jungle of erections. i couldn't see the skeletal lightning, it was camouflaged as a young machete
let's sling our rain slicks over February's fantastic antlers sprouting from the foreheads of world famous romancers. the winter's looming like a bloodthirsty
those decadent war swans, with faces half drawn, slinging blood soaked carols at the slave ship sun. huge gold ak-47! huge gold ak-47! c'mon, its 4am
fuck! who's at the door? what the fuck!" your heart is sweating; your hands are turning black. your shadow breaks in wearing a ski mask. is that a machete
conscience until it's a corpse. war never ends. war never begins. hoist up the hag of destitution! his mouth's an empty room where wild woes wander. young machetes
twilight's million battered lips sleep in a house of fractured smiles. young love's clumsy fingertips are gonna find out for themselves. the birds keep
oh, team machine! i'm a pound of flesh in a drum machine's dream. we watch crabs and lobsters eat a dead cops throat and stuff our mouths with gutted
those chariots, racing your run, autographing flooded slums. those chariots, they never sleep, chased you down a lilac's lung. rat rider! rat rider!
we live in a glamorous mansion with napalm in the walls. waterfalls fall like intestines from flying gutted gulls. we live in a glamorous mansion with
still in school. what'cha gonna do? what'cha gonna do? just sit and watch the ships loading their freight and pale pelicans feeding their young and grasp
brass boots, where has your gaunt gown gone? whose streets have you walked on? who did you meet? what did they say? is the world just a foxhole you watch
we're the boys jailed in a horse's skull. we nailed our ears to a feral glittery drone. the only things that make our blood feel like blood are stealing
i've fallen face first into a painting of hallucinogenic sunset. i'm the boy on the beach with the guitar, all the shark's beretta's: click-click, click
this telepathic hangover gnaws the nipples off my neck. well, when you suck off those machine guns, mister, what do you expect? i crawled through 60,
orange, and yellow and black flesh trees bloom fire, fire, fire. i'm trapped inside this motel 6 on fire, fire, fire. oh, those young fists clenched