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Busted, Rusty


Your hearts murmur is angry electricity
My busted, rusty bike chain is more and more like me

And I keep sipping coffee & all I taste is gasoline
Wondering what things that become like me are like
Who am I? Who am I?

I'm train tracks and nervous habits
Endless static in the dirty air
That spans corners and car crashes
Drunk on love or brain damage

Your bloods boil is blackened fetish fantasy
Heartless, faceless fuckers they smear on disease

Your souls belly is a whale harpooned deity
The one that got away is becoming more and more like me
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