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Artiste:
Receiving End Of Sirens, The
Titre:
...and The Disease Self-medicates
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the munitions in your kitchen are parlor talk and when tinted and printed, there's genius in the doublespeak we're all in stitches over makeshift surgeries held in contempt after your straight-faced perjury from cribs to crypts and hid behind my lips if there's a fault they will search you out search you out because they're dying at their desk jobs bite the hand that feeds your basic needs, baby it's the cannibal in me sanctified knife-play with what sleeps in the streets in your sheets by day forensic(k) to your stomach this DNA redecoration on your office wall you have murdered their darlings because they didn't have the entrails for the job (1, 2, 3) underwater waltzes in our concrete dancing shoes bite the hand that feeds your basic needs, baby it's the cannibal in me sanctified knife-play with what sleeps in the streets in your sheets by day and some can't see the clouds for nightfall, and some can't see the night for eyelids, and some are happier than others flash one two three flash one two -- it's closer.