1. |
Sack of Flies
02:53
|
|||
Harsh silence
A tense smile
Some big worries
Attached like tentacles
A worn movement
All the little dams crack
Flows sewage
Away it goes
Grows shoes first
Bottom bloats
Trip forward
A crash of toes
Drop inward
And all the running things flash
There goes their stories
Their last show
|
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2. |
Kakistocracy
02:08
|
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3. |
Cost to Feed
03:19
|
|||
Archers strike first
Kill lots of words
Falling trees
Sergeant sits down
He cedes the land
Cost to feed
Come on
Here’s the story that will surely sell
Are you with us? Are you in?
Starts with a bend
Then preens and folds
Cold and clean
Now it’s just bland
Without the war
Cost to feed
|
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4. |
Soft Spots
02:44
|
|||
Needles changing hands
Sticking all the ends in soft spots
Running out of entry
Pouring acid rain
Smallest little friends take first hit
Bend the view from pity
Look straight ahead
Termites slurping wood
Houses barely stand on torn sticks
But they’re selling them as sturdy
Hiding cans of gas
Light a few at night, wait, slowly
Burning all the cities
Look straight ahead
|
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5. |
||||
Hiding behind steps
Let yourself go
Try not so hard to protect yourself
I can only steal your backbone from your body
Dim your clothes stains
Turn your glance down
Open your arms to my drunk hands
I can only steal your backbone from your body
|
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6. |
Runny Puppy
02:50
|
|||
Some shiny bright thing
I’m grasping, strong hold
Automatic sure win
Full shaded whole heart
Unnoticed first signs
Low tremors in fault
Remove the dropped pins
Erase the skid marks
Steadfast
Subtle glow
Horizon to ease the soul
|
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7. |
A Rasp
04:01
|
|||
Shut down their dull restraint head on
Yeah, started chasing a dog
Propped up with cross stitched waves of lust
All a rasp, a rasp, a rasp
Rolls through with forty snakes pulsing
Yeah, forty snakes to a song
Junk ham and salt to waste on deck
All a rasp, a rasp, a rasp
|
||||
8. |
Clown Car
02:57
|
|||
Bombs away, then we shut the door
Slight whirl, done this shit before
My way… I’m getting used to it
I can’t quit
One to one, now I’m 40 plus
Harsh slur, push the words out slow
Total is... I owe the bank some more
I can’t quit
Out cold, but body’s doing tasks
(In the) small world, but not much getting done
Result’s the same and not much earned from it but
I can’t quit
Dunk the hold, drowning feelings fast
Ghost arm, slapping through the acts
A nice taste… I’ve come to sleep in it and
I can’t quit
|
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