I'm...wakin' up
I'm...catchin' on
there I was, thinkin',
all this maybe
wasn't
Bless this body
and touch this face
and bury the loveliness
in a
couldn't be made...
dirt like this
rather be the spit
for a thirsty
face to face
hour to hour
face to face with the moment
small minds multiply
small dreams terrify
here we go...
my flesh, crucified
my
this can be the pill
this can be the lull
this can
turn me inside out,
you know I can't resist
now you know
there must be more to it than this
you cut your
I can't tell if you need me
and I don't know
the twisting of God's nerves
and the laughing gas face
and a
Space might be
the final frontier,
but, for now,
I'm afraid we're both
you know, I couldn't have said it better
they put the
I guess by now you owe me
a turn of the
» More on Low Pop Suicide