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Fraught with your tact in this sawdust of thankless ardor
Slow driven facts slam dance hard like your broken car door
Scruffy reminders of an old severed hand while you're
While you’re constantly retreating to your safe place to land
And it's funny, it's morbid to carry this around
Sure it's funny, and it's sordid to carry this around
And I'm so ashamed to starve the source
Can you feel it in my groin
And it is funny to be owning pain and see that it's your soil
Cursed in the face with the full throttled wrath of riches
My best escape was to blame it all on your madman's sickness
Misused emotions we try to step aside, while they're
Screaming their mantras to the big bosomed guy
And funny, it's morbid to carry on this farce
When the rotting pulp of my desires is trapped in your ancient hourglass
Hey the Buddha in my brother’s cage
Watches natural history pass
And swears a humbled marshal masters screaming proprietary
Their screaming
Proprietary is a curse in yer face, in yer face in yer face
And the Buddha in my brother’s cage
Watches natural history past
And swears a humbled marshal masters screaming proprietary is
a mantra in motion and a curse in your face
© Trystette & THL
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