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• Artiste: Flipron
• Titre: Hungamunga
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the sun is cutting stencils with the shadows on the frost we're burning boots and moldy blankets on the bonfire and I trust that the smoke will linger in our clothes and curl into our hair so that a mob of dying prisoners can follow if we dare to look away we are horses in the morning our breath plays in the air the steam is licking traces of a love that's lost and doesn't care oh but its value was a moment a meeting of the laws a fart of fortuitous an effect of equal value to it's cause for miles we've led a chase making deals to find your fabled face the face whose eyes we've known forever whose mouth can speak each heart whose absence yields the monsters who just tear themselves apart for love for hunger hungamunga yadadadada ooh ah hungamunga ah there are blistered possibilities on the panels of the day we are horses in the morning who have dared to run away and the pensioners are wailing and closing up behind so sinister and fearless then fragile then merciful and kind ladadaladadalada ladadaladadalada dadadadadada ah