the one true resolve of the flame and the bullet
is
If your shower has a good amount of pressure,
If you
There is no grace in act five
Only the nerves, insect-like
I've been habitually rubbing the sleep from my eyes,
I see
until the hankerchief of history covers us with its
times
it's okay, spread the peanut butter thick.
you're back home. sleep
sleeping late i hear the sad horns
of labor truck sigh
my
Yeah... what... yeah...
Here we go
To inhaling crushed bones through a
(uh, yeah)
overboard underscored and prayed for,
crave more than the tapered
Let's do a photo essay
About the doggy bowl racecar cat,
(And)
you're so sensitive,
you can feel a single hair curl
All of my words for sadness
Like eskimo snow on unmanned
If I really meant it
I'd embrace a dead pet
or enter
i sleep on my back cause it's good for the
It starts with you
on a mattress in your parents' old
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