1. |
End of Orgies
02:32
|
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At the end of orgies people go home.
They do not explode.
They are not so intrinsically changed
that they burst into flames.
They nod to their spouse
and grab their car keys
from the crystal bowl
on the kitchen counter.
They drive to their house.
They go home.
At the end of orgies people go home.
At the end of orgies people go home.
At the end of orgies people go home.
At the end of orgies people go home.
|
||||
2. |
Siamese
02:35
|
|||
You're such a pretty cat.
Cold moon eyes.
Yeah, your claws are sharp but they
lack substance.
You're such a pretty beast.
You arch your back to meet the hands
that pet and pull at
the scruff of your neck.
Play cool.
Kill time.
No tame.
Nine lives.
It's such an endless chore,
this winding up of the string that dangles
lazily from a paw with no interest.
It's just it's just it's just
it's just it's just it's just a joke
with no punch line.
The tail, it tells a tale it does not mean.
Play cool.
Kill time.
No tame.
Nine lives.
Play cool.
Kill time.
No tame.
Nine lives.
Play cool.
Kill time.
No tame.
Nine lives.
Play cool.
Kill time.
No tame.
Nine lives.
Play cool.
Kill time.
No tame.
Nine lives.
Play cool.
|
||||
3. |
No Ghost
03:23
|
|||
We made our way,
arm in arm.
We formed a line
in hopes there was no ghost at all.
The fields bared the marks of our boots.
Night air held our breath as we looked
for a swatch of cloth or some pale flesh
resting among the moss.
But there was no ghost at all,
just what once was a boy.
So your horror then,
it is our horror now.
There was no ghost.
There was no ghost.
There was no ghost,
no ghost at all.
Just flesh.
Just flesh.
Just flesh.
Just flesh.
|
||||
4. |
It's a Crime
01:58
|
|||
It's stupid and puerile,
this gnashing and mewling.
It's a crime.
It's a crime
the way you piss
on our good times.
So with a powdered nose I strike a pose.
We came to dance and not to be shoved.
It's a crime.
It's a crime
the way you piss
on our good times.
I'm not having fun.
No, I'm not having fun.
No, I'm not having fun.
It's stupid and puerile,
this gnashing and mewling.
It's a crime.
It's a crime
the way you piss
on our good times.
I'm not having fun.
No, I'm not having fun.
No, I'm not having fun.
|
||||
5. |
I Need You
03:13
|
|||
I need you.
I need you so bad.
If I don't get you babe
it's gonna make me mad.
Have you felt?
Have you felt like this?
I never ever knew how it would to be kissed.
If you feel.
If you feel like I do then
come on and kiss me baby.
Don't you be no fool.
Did you hear?
Did you hear what I said?
You got a choice to be mine
or get shot in the head.
Any day.
Any day, any place.
Any time, anywhere, it aint no disgrace.
I'm your's.
I'm your's right now.
I don't care if you don't want me.
I'm your's anyhow.
I'm in love.
I'm in love with you.
If you don't love me baby
you better act like you do.
Did you hear?
Did you hear what I said?
You got a choice to be mine
or get shot in the head.
Any day.
Any day, any place.
Any time, anywhere, it aint no disgrace.
If you feel.
If you feel like I do then
come on and kiss me baby.
Don't you be no fool.
Did you hear?
Did you hear what I said?
You got a choice to be mine
or get shot in the head.
Any day.
Any day, any place.
Any time, anywhere, it aint no disgrace.
I'm your's.
I'm your's right now.
I don't care if you don't want me.
I'm your's anyhow.
Did you hear?
Did you hear what I said?
You got a choice to be mine
or get shot in the head.
Any day.
Any day, any place.
Any time, anywhere, it aint no disgrace.
|
||||
6. |
Hustling Myself
03:53
|
|||
Kiss this feeling on the lips.
These dull kicks make me feel sick.
Steady pulse and my mind it slips.
Mock it up.
Throw us a fit.
No more paint the walls
and sick of bathroom doors.
This house is no home.
I'm reduced to a drone
that sits alone in its bedroom.
Faking humble, moans a tune.
I'm hustling myself.
The snake that eats its tail.
This warm flesh longs to turn pale.
These pupils want to bloom black.
This infant weight on my back.
This youth that blinds.
That shoots such images across
a still and stunted mind.
The past that heals.
It's nothing masquerading as
something crystal clear.
No more paint the walls
and sick of bathroom doors.
This house is no home.
I'm reduced to a drone
that sits alone in its bedroom.
Faking humble, moans a tune.
I'm hustling myself.
|
||||
7. |
Feel Groovy
02:13
|
|||
8. |
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