|
Here is what I said |
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Made up is his blanket |
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Up above our heads to |
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Satisfy the masses lost |
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This is a present |
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The Gift-wrapped hollow story sent |
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Made in man son man |
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The elemental spiritless |
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What have we become? |
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A better fitting graces |
|
Makeshift housing a medical nightmare |
|
What have they done? |
|
A tipping over cowardice |
|
Fleeing from the wrong side |
|
The body with the hive |
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Crash! |
|
No where left to run |
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Wake up never-land |
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A never ending worry |
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Walking hand by hand |
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And overtaken by the sweat |
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What have we become |
|
So wrapped up in the blanket's hum |
|
What have we become? |
|
A better fitting graces |
|
Makeshift housing a medical nightmare |
|
What have they done |
|
A tipping over cowardice |
|
Fleeing from the wrong side |
|
The body with the hive |
|
Crash! |
|
No where left to run (x2) |
|
Note the afterbirths |
|
Needles my forgiveness |
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But opium's excesses |
|
From sitting on the grasses green |
|
Who then holds the gun? |
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Crash! |
|
No where left to run |
