know that you'll soon go crazy just like a whittling stick hit by the coming daylight cut up in a quick succession a pointed confession really stripped of all your armor down to your very nature beneath the haze and vapor gaze you're such a willing stick to beckon that wanting knife you've been looking for it the right blade all your life saying "who's gonna cut me down to a size that suits me? is there a worthy sculptor among all you fine young knives?" it's enough to make you take your head and put it on a shelf to cut the heart out of your chest they'll come for that as well tell me how you do that crazy trick where you walk around asleep save it for your doctor friend the one who keeps you under lock and key you'll soon go screaming like bargain basement lunatic who's not so specialized that they couldn't just replace you why don't you start crying for all that you've got left here why don't you stop dying before you go and get it right now you're selling off the house so you can buy the farm you cut the heart out of your chest to let the light in through your arm it's enough to make you take your head and put it in a bag to cut the teeth out at the pink now there's nothing in the bag foul weather friend you are so dying an amateur chemist now king medicine when is it perfect? where is it taking you? there is no cure only reprieve some fleeting joy posing as balance nothing is sure so every four hours king medicine this subject loves youTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
