|
We are all soured milk |
|
When we look in the mirror, we collapse |
|
We are all soured milk |
|
When we look in the mirror, we collapse |
|
When our time has come |
|
When our finger's on the trigger, we collapse |
|
Arms are fading |
|
Swirling like a poison in the sink |
|
Like the southern bell |
|
Playing songs of horror, like teeth among the grass |
|
Like a bullet shell |
|
Whistle and a howl |
|
Watch the good folks run |
|
We are all rotten fruit |
|
When the pipeline's are still flowing, we collapse |
|
When our time has come |
|
When the city needs a lynching to collapse |
|
Arms are fading |
|
The devil's in the eye of every man |
|
Water in the well |
|
A baptist and a baby were rolling in the leaves |
|
Keep her spirit well |
|
And (toppit?) baby's father will lay her out to dry |
