LYRIC

Soft spare roads have led a path of ancient pieces of grey skin
They were built by children's hands
No longer sutured by moth mouths
There is nothing towards the end
Only feathers of stuffed dreams
Throwing murmurs of old slumbers
Simplify my will to dance

I'm not impressed
Your teeth are bent
Don't tell me how to repent

Infiltrate the veins of kings
Watch them shudder at your prayers
Gates of flesh tone city charms work the ways
Around cold sores
Tilted winter in our blood stream
Nervous twitches take hold
Faster than the speed of brain sweat
Touch the water with your hush hands

I'm not impressed
Your teeth are bent
Don't tell me how to repent

Rush in deep in your grave
Bury me deep in your grave
Rush in deep in your grave

Bitter snakes tips have joined this trip
To warn me of your virtued juice
Slithered grins of maverick games have grown unrusted rumbled lies
There is no one here to sing songs of flowers in despair
Negativity is ingrown
Only to be vile, vile
Ravished, ravished

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