What a roundabout way of dealing with this
What an innovative problem
Such incoherency hasn't graced the plains, in such a time
What a pretty home
What a pretty batch of polystyrene houses
With a common theme
A crackwhore teeming with a spotless gleam of timeless white
You are not who you said you were
As the day ticks on
And my fingernails grow longer
It becomes clear to me now
Just how much I need this right now
And what I'm willing to do to ensure that this is it, this is it
This is what I was dreaming about in my sleep
In my dream without you
Marbled eye. Glass glutton
Cracked at the dawn, of the dawn
Up at the left of field, in the thickets I'd lie
Put my hand on the fence, blow out my candle
Put my other hand on the gun handle
Conditioning in the rare
Don't look cause he's there!
But you wouldn't dare get out my hair
I'm in armistice, and I'm dead