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you paint your own tv on the wall |
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carve out insects to feed us all |
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lights flash by and the fast world echoes your thoughts |
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your compass led you to the edge of a lake |
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you'll singe your nuts down there if you take |
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such bad advice from the love gods of hate |
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you'll get cold |
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you get burned, you get cold |
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on the plush green rug in the lime green light |
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eyes like white stones in black light |
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i promise you everything that you like |
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i go "mississippi kite" |
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gloss assails us then dims |
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comic book nights, la grim |
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the hollywood martians, lucky stiffs, fucking wing |
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you told me enough times you can't give me enough rope |
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to hang myself one time, but I can always hope |
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you come down on me so hard that I choke and go |
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you get burned, you get cold |
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meanwhile, I feed you boric acid and air |
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lemon drops, snow cream, speckled eggs |
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the sweat seeps in through a crack in your head |
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you go "mississippi kite" |
