All these chariots
Where the horses lay dead
Mmh, and a fist
Where thirty dollars should have been
I was waiting for
Something to hold
Thought I heard a bird call
The regional decade
The lilies grow like weeds here
But I love it when you make the bed
The way you come out from underneath
We got food for life
We got trail of slug
Hot sand to soothe my cold feet
Your grandma had such young teeth
Wait, no!
Cross over him again
Or he might never grow
Devil sits in the window
Water smacks on the floor below
I wish that he would call me over
To feel the weight down at the end of his bed
