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Have no eyes, I must see, you walk out, |
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a violent burst of some kind kind kind kind, |
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mindstate a dirty little drunk and cluttered. |
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Shinning a problem of pictorial illusion, |
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dump the trunk and tear the little freak out out out. |
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An unparallelleled account of collapse appearing like yourself |
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liberation appearing like myself mutilation. |
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Hold still now, nobody turns, said yeah! |
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Thier back on me. Silence is deafening desperate waking up. |
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Motive spasm my back aches. |
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Termination detentation, da-la-sco.. |
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now this room don't seem so small sitting here in a cage |
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of some kind kind kind kind miracle and some hallucination, |
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dropped excitement from my last words shut the door |
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and turn the T.V. on on now that I've done all that I can. |
