Here I am still intact

And I should give myself

Credit for that

But I have cast a stone

Deep into my throat

I squat on land my

Feet won't reach

The smell of blood and

Bile and bleach

I need a square foot

And a rope



We can weave we can unravel

We keep on sleeping

Right though our travels

We can weave we can unravel

Take our confusion to a

Much higher level



Spit it up and hand it over

To another child of squallor

Pallid wheezing

Lost all her color

Her dark circles

Getting darker

He crossed her palm

But nothing seems

To wake her from her

Shitty dreams

Now she's become just one

More helpless package

Of doom



The city is ecpecially

Vindictive tonight

That hitchhiker looks like

He's heading home to

Murder his wife

Well it's a proven fact they

Don't respond to every call

For help in time

So there she stays

Poor little girl

Lying on the floor of a

Dirty bathroom



No folks there's no device

No box of gods to descend

And take this tragedy

Tie up all the loose ends