The ocean floor is hidden. From your viewing lens. A depth perception. Languished in the night. All my life,I've been. Sewing the wounds. But the seeds sprout.
The ocean floor is hidden. From your viewing lens. A depth perception. Languished in the night. All my life,I've been. Sewing the wounds. But the seeds sprout.
Neonecropopulace has no reflection. Neocaeczaristic phallic ruins. Just east of the river. Denial the techs are breathing. Welcome to this neoTokyo. Gridlocks will warn the chromlech alarms.
The ocean floor is hidden. From your viewing lens. A depth perception. Languished in the night. All my life,I've been. Sewing the wounds. But the seeds sprout.
Close the doors. If you want to seen her breathing again. Blur the days. Sleeping is just not an option. . How come every time I walk, you crawl?. Then you cut out all the letters that make up this note.
When sanskrit was my mother tongue. Scarabs filled my pillow. Tarmac strips to pave for them. And thrones from which to teach. And in that pulse the future said.
Do you recall it's name. As it suggested beck and call. This face and heel. Will drag your halo through the mud. Ash of Pompeii. Erupting in a statues dust.
In denial who will come clean. All the ravenous debris. In disguise sideswiped by penance. Cerecloth sentencing. This scapegrace will pay my barking harangue...Are you listening?.
The horseman you have brought deserve me. Some how they've made it through the floor. The clocks you set are they reversing. Before this visit turns conjugal ever more.
I am coming this way. Caught in this world. Caught in this world. Caught in this world. You remember differing. Who will save you?. In your odd. . Who will be the first?.
A salty ring of night fatigue. When I get the sweats. From your listening. Primordial cymatics. Giving birth into reverse. Serrated mare ephemera. Undo her mother's curse.
The ocean floor is hidden. from your viewing lens. a depth perception. languished in the night. all my life I've been. sowing the wounds but. the seeds spread a.
a. TARANTISM. b. PLANT A NAIL IN THE NAVEL STREAM. c. FAMINEPULSE. d. MULTIPLE SPOUSE WOUNDS. e. SARCOPHAGI. . I think I've become like one of the others.
Twenty five wives in the lake tonight. Raw bark in the water of the marble shrine. Twenty five snakes pour out your eyes. Yeah the icepicks cumming on the marble shrine.
You can't bend your crooked arms or fold your punctured proof. The air is growing cold and there's nothing you can do. Soon there'll be no gauze, inside the confessional.
There was a frail syrup dripping off. His lap danced lapel, punctuated by her. Decrepit prowl she washed down the hatching. Gizzard soft as a mane of needles.
I think I've become one of the others. I think I've become one of the others. I think I've become one of the others. . There was a frail syrup dripping off.
I think I've become like one of the others. I think I've become like one of the others. I think I've become like one of the others. There was a frail syrup dripping off.
So you say you're on your own. And nothing's going right. Fist to fist and heart to heart. You get back up and fight. . And now.... Your torn like a flag on a battleground.
Condolences. The show is over, I take my final bow. As my live light is fading,. Friends and family gather all around and grieve. I can see it now so clearly.