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• Artiste: Eric Lindley
• Titre: Bounce
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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The kill-christ kid with wooden lungs and sweetheart lips, talcum tongue, Came crawling up, to suck my thumb, To suck the vodka off my pants. I opened up, to let it breathe, To seep the gases through my teeth, And wiped up supper from my sleeve. The moment finally passes. My heart, my heart is broken, Swinging unchecked, rusty hoses, Firing sweat, smoke blood, wet roses, Vomit, chocolate, and heat. The curly, brown-blonde, oily kid, Bounced up to crack her melon head, She laughed, rolling one eye, and said, "There's nothing left here for me," So I drink quickly, tuck my teeth, Behind my dick-suck lips and leave, Her loving me, But quietly, There's nothing left here for me. My heart, my heart is broken, Swinging unchecked, rusty hoses, Firing sweat, smoke blood, wet roses, Vomit, chocolate, and heat.