Thursday, February 11, 2010

Alice Practice

Scars, in you, son
You shrug it off
Except that you don't

Better, it surely
It don't fall out
I live low
I lisp, I die
Sugar shooting
Bled with dead beats
Only crawl
Your sad eyes
Quite christian

Drop it, it's dead
We drop it
and took the body home
Sad eyes

Scars, I'm chopping dagers
See you'll never walk
only stagger.
sad eyes
Quite christian

No comments:

Post a Comment