The village fountain mourns the square Near the salted slimeheads A man throws handfuls of his blood His bright teeth
(You should think in solid ways Look what happens when you don't)
Forget that you were tricked You lie to the wriggling mess with every thought
Near the salted slimeheads Red yawns widen and splatter He spreads his belongings on the sand
I heard something through his prehistoric grin We were all scarred with tribal wounds But the clustering force left me alone There was once a village square Whose bright floor I swept
Forget that you were tricked You lie to the wriggling mess with every thoughtTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
