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• Artiste: Laura Stevenson
• Titre: The Wheel
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Starts of dreams I'm able to breathe underwater, someone's daughter's sugar, southern-weather voice with Lucky Strikes she tries to cover the smell, cover the noises of his mouth, cover the planes of his face, cover the noises he makes There's a man and I hate him plainly, nothing fancy in how glad I watched them bury him But ever since then, I can feel him all around me, clawing like a crowd, like the weather sucks me in and spits me out Understand I am only as he made me, a faithful servant to all of the noise, all of the lights, all the flashing in my head, the sound of his mouth, loud as a crowd, and you're lucky that you're dead because Clemency is tugging me but I'm sorry that she's weak Because I won't be merciful, like what got you first in your throat, I will be real, real slow, just like a wheel, turn over I'm like a wheel. I'll be real, I'll be real. I'll turn over like a wheel