Song | Colder Still |
Artist | Nurse with Wound |
Album | Thunder Perfect Mind |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Nurse With Wound | |
Crops falling from the earth to the ceiling | |
These small arms and white belly | |
And enormous undercarriage | |
The wax crayon illuminati | |
Our minds locked in dark sewer | |
Each finding less than before | |
Each counting the warm conclusions | |
Of the six buttons of sex appeal | |
Knowing full well that ice breaks when smoke rises | |
Sucked into a whole | |
The ever floating karma of fried blind dog of the street | |
Our purpose for the one and only | |
Green form eats small headed breaded shrimp | |
Allowing several coats of makeshift lolly | |
On a lolly covered felt | |
Shook with fear from lightning | |
Falling several times in the wrong place | |
Soaking up blindly the wings of our depression | |
Floating up shiny columns of grey green primrose algae | |
The piston awakes to a small tiny fire within himself | |
Forcing the unwanted part of his mind into tiny fractions | |
Each plied with coconut scissors | |
All content, yet somehow familiar to Mothers everywhere | |
It's been days now since my childhood dreams were fulfilled | |
With crystal canyons and opera myths - | |
Its thousand legs dribbling oil like may rain | |
Over all-coloured mortar from way back when | |
This gorgeous thigh is resting under his elbow | |
Reminds me of clotted cream | |
All bloody from strawberry tobbacco juice | |
Hard halo of polystyrene pillow talk | |
Mothers' milk cooking in the breat of paisley blue silk | |
Like a mind in labour | |
Bursting the waters of afterlife | |
Drenched in the warm hot river | |
Containing everything and nothing. |
zuo qu : Nurse With Wound | |
Crops falling from the earth to the ceiling | |
These small arms and white belly | |
And enormous undercarriage | |
The wax crayon illuminati | |
Our minds locked in dark sewer | |
Each finding less than before | |
Each counting the warm conclusions | |
Of the six buttons of sex appeal | |
Knowing full well that ice breaks when smoke rises | |
Sucked into a whole | |
The ever floating karma of fried blind dog of the street | |
Our purpose for the one and only | |
Green form eats small headed breaded shrimp | |
Allowing several coats of makeshift lolly | |
On a lolly covered felt | |
Shook with fear from lightning | |
Falling several times in the wrong place | |
Soaking up blindly the wings of our depression | |
Floating up shiny columns of grey green primrose algae | |
The piston awakes to a small tiny fire within himself | |
Forcing the unwanted part of his mind into tiny fractions | |
Each plied with coconut scissors | |
All content, yet somehow familiar to Mothers everywhere | |
It' s been days now since my childhood dreams were fulfilled | |
With crystal canyons and opera myths | |
Its thousand legs dribbling oil like may rain | |
Over allcoloured mortar from way back when | |
This gorgeous thigh is resting under his elbow | |
Reminds me of clotted cream | |
All bloody from strawberry tobbacco juice | |
Hard halo of polystyrene pillow talk | |
Mothers' milk cooking in the breat of paisley blue silk | |
Like a mind in labour | |
Bursting the waters of afterlife | |
Drenched in the warm hot river | |
Containing everything and nothing. |
zuò qǔ : Nurse With Wound | |
Crops falling from the earth to the ceiling | |
These small arms and white belly | |
And enormous undercarriage | |
The wax crayon illuminati | |
Our minds locked in dark sewer | |
Each finding less than before | |
Each counting the warm conclusions | |
Of the six buttons of sex appeal | |
Knowing full well that ice breaks when smoke rises | |
Sucked into a whole | |
The ever floating karma of fried blind dog of the street | |
Our purpose for the one and only | |
Green form eats small headed breaded shrimp | |
Allowing several coats of makeshift lolly | |
On a lolly covered felt | |
Shook with fear from lightning | |
Falling several times in the wrong place | |
Soaking up blindly the wings of our depression | |
Floating up shiny columns of grey green primrose algae | |
The piston awakes to a small tiny fire within himself | |
Forcing the unwanted part of his mind into tiny fractions | |
Each plied with coconut scissors | |
All content, yet somehow familiar to Mothers everywhere | |
It' s been days now since my childhood dreams were fulfilled | |
With crystal canyons and opera myths | |
Its thousand legs dribbling oil like may rain | |
Over allcoloured mortar from way back when | |
This gorgeous thigh is resting under his elbow | |
Reminds me of clotted cream | |
All bloody from strawberry tobbacco juice | |
Hard halo of polystyrene pillow talk | |
Mothers' milk cooking in the breat of paisley blue silk | |
Like a mind in labour | |
Bursting the waters of afterlife | |
Drenched in the warm hot river | |
Containing everything and nothing. |