[Adapted from the poem "The Storm" by Alison LR Davies] It starts as a faint purr, rippling, beckoning, stealing the evening's baking heat. It steps
I am naked, you are sacred safe uncovered, subtle rupture rush for comfort, such desire shared forever, your touch soothes me to my Core, when you speak
It's in your mind, when you try to play as the best of all. But when you see the picture all you do is crawl. It's in your mind, when you try to feed
Ich lass mich nicht verarschen von euch verlog'nem Pack ihr seht das Ende kommen mit jedem neuen Tag. Bekämpft oder erduldet das allgemeine Leid
THE HEART OF YOUR HOME He still smiles when he recalls How the gold ring fit her finger And they made that moment linger That it's memory'd be strong
(Phil Nicely - beatbox Jim Pollard - guitar) {instrumental and a damn good one at that}
You're the fuel to the fire You're the weapons of war You're the irony of justice And the father of law I've been waiting for awhile to meet you For
I am smellin' like a rose That somebody gave me On my birthday deathbed I am smellin' like a rose That somebody gave me 'Cause I'm dead and bloated I
Kickin' as I'm tryin' to sleep I got the mud beneath my shoes Rubber band, rubber band Gun in hand, gun in hand I wanna use Roamin', roamin', roam Get
Holy water clouds my thinking Sinking low now keep on drinking Down you go, suffer long Down you go, sin make me strong Down you go, suffer long Down
Hey everybody, where did Mary go? Where did Mary go? And where's my only cigarette? Please think for me, I can't bare to I'll just lie here for a while
Yeah, I could hide in the calm Of the eye of the storm and never blow away Well, I'm a young man with a knife to my back Some things never seem to change
Yeah yeah I broke the breadline, nobody knows I walked the frontline, still got far to go I mixed the water, I drank the water I broke the breadline,
I don't know why I want you to define My comfor's far in mind You are my last footstep to fly Turn yourself to be my core Is it too much that I'm asking
So since the surgery, how's that ghost limb Hey man, say man have you been rubbin' your nub Por favor De no sacar los manos, de no sacar los manos Fuera
No, not the ringing Wide awake, suffering Constant hissing-deafening Constantly, constantly Reverberate inside my skull [x4] The sound is silent, yet
Thoughtlessness, you're meaningful But so irritating Your inner soul of torment keeps you From discovering your true self While walking a tightrope That
Can't accept rewards that I've received This fear of losing leaves it's scars on me I'm sorry I didn't fit in I'm sorry that I've got a complex I'm sorry
