Birds of a Black feather together forever and ever and they always remember you And all of the you do They pass it to the birdies and then they remember too baby bluebird eyes turn black Without the face of the guy in the mask When you see me baby will you scream or you laugh? Little baby blue bird, turn black
4 and 20 gory pantone black crows shredding The silouettes are lefty scissors Separating horn and hoof as own They piggy back the tombs of all deadest friends and neighbors By the image, green-cheese moon shit, graveyard tchk! tchk! Shifter shit, brother was a face Crown like a heart-shaped tunnel of woven branches in over his hydro-plaining pace car chase... Wait up let me isolate the bass of god's acre Aim to the snow off each forsaken name here Supposedly free the vipers out the bosom Personally I it's a bunch of bullshit Prisoners, is for lovers God forbid he flip the witch against her coven on dip or play the dozens Now I skips in larvae and dental records On a little plot pregnant 6 million sentenceenders And the tech support for emphatically horrendous Teenage explaining what bated breath is Pass, I it were something I could diagram on a napkin so you won't feel so detached if it should happen to you privately your shadows'll cat call back Happy to split the button eye and burlap the crypt Bats eject like cousin wing-ed Iapdogs ricocheting sonar of the sacrilege Now let me slow this shit down for all you half-goat cowards even grit my teeth for you I am so completely off the god-damn grid not a question of addressing me, I T's "what do these symbols under the mean" Perhaps a little dash of karma chameleons through the for good/young used a good lung Still, to corpses wasn't nothing to the kid but unforgiving science or cinematic horrors Fast forward, my knee in the gut of a "remember that cow in the seems awkward And I know your people donated pints to the pavement but for ash and bone to share a space with strangers seems outrageous, ain't it? Maybe a dialog of howls that reshapes thejowls and face somehow relates to whatever you have found among a cloned shrines, either way - dope stone lion
And call to let you know your friend is dead in a box The have the tools to get the meat out of the box Scientific, ritualistic, headstone foxes still rot I'm not gonna rot, no, that snot You can let let you rot, man But I'm not going to I'm not gonna atop your plot I love you friends, but I'm not On the other if your ashes are scattered in the sea I swim in the sea and you'll be with me And if your shit is scattered at the roots of a I will that tree
Everything you think hiding shows In the way you view the graves like a string of tiny Messages you'd away for keeps has resurfaced to be heard amidst the butchery and beaks You don't want the passengers to You each cow taxidermy'd fatter than the last lighting is a rush While it might a silhouette it might expose a crutch A proud chest to the heavens Holds nothing if cutting past the muscle and the tendon And we will be cutting the muscle and the tendon...