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• Artiste: Murder
• Titre: Feast in My Honour
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Rain on windmills, cardboard shoes, and medicine to drug my moods, the many splendoured trails from here prepare, a feast in my honour, better than the blame I built, but softer than my camouflage, the paint I pour dissolves into the air, in all kinds of colours, I was eating of the floor, every little apple core, still it wasn't quite enough, wine and juices for my love, when push comes to shove, rain on windmills, bits of bricks, a deck of cards and magic tricks, my face and feeling I cannot deny, but why should I bother, newborn babies, hymns and weeds, my joints and limbs that cant compete, with wind and weather, weeks that pass me by, a feast in my honour, I was eating of the floor, every little apple core, still it wasn't quite enough, wine and juices for my love, when push comes to shove.