Like tractionless wheels They spin in place and throw up mud The perforated lung Thick smoke presses down It'll be phoned in, the bogged down inertial stench Decaffeinated law, the mud makes motion low
What about the young, what about the young rat Decapitated dog, domesticated animal Bigmouth strikes again, burnt at the steak house Motivated sludge, ensorcelled hibernation
Last legs This is just the lag time, waiting for the other shoe to drop I felt you trying to help me, but you only curse jewelry What's this dark miasma? What's this foul pestilence?
The stagnant water builds The sleeping sandless days that took, a broken rudder ship Buried in the shore again, buried in the couch forever, Englaciated way of life Obsolete machine No more chances left.
