it should have been a concrete or plastic wall
coated in the wires from his bed
and the flashing lights green and red
and amber and white yellow and black
but it was a path a never look back tack
a sheer drop for lives and forgotten wives
for we have one foot here and one foot there
between the stink of shit and the country air
put your hands together to make a sound
all the stories you made up unravel
believe in the pay off the one million
the dirty dollars in your hands
the distant sea and the artificial sounds
the round and round the hellioland
it’s what we wanted to see and talking in tongues
deceived betters and all the bitter wronged
always what we wanted it to be
if you think that person is you it had better be me
saw at the bars from hand to hand
for the offers at Lidle and Aldi the James Hunts
The Emerson Fittapaldis
i can’t bang my head up the wall forever
peace to my mens and the scribbles from felt tip pens
and the angst pours and we twist it
hard to understand hard to resist it
pulling the shoelaces tighter and harder
the distant fucking shore seems farther
and i hope you dont feel the Popes far away
as they sing to us prostitution songs
curling in the pod the dudes with the sawn offs
hustle your coat tighter and hurry along
fire breathers and liars songs
trust me in the future they will read bleed and fucking seed
lie desire and make sordid thrusts
breathe the holy fire suck the holy lust

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