Every crack of the skin is like the typhoon shining
brightly over me before I fall,
fall.
It's a curved path,
curved path right to the river of thymus.
I get to swim there,
I get to shine there,
back home,
so that cuz me and myself die.
Fall.
Radio, hush, hush, baby, hush, hush.
The song that whispers on the radio,
hush, hush,
it's the dissonance catwalk.
Fall.
Waiting for my blood in the blister.
Cuz every crack,
crack goes back and forth with my little,
my little old child.
I see the way he's flashing, baby.
I know it's from the sun, yeah.
Back and forth and back and forth again.
I know you're a telephone pole trunk.
I know you're a telephone pole trunk.
I know you're a telephone pole,
a job around cracks that you're lining up on.
You gotta hold me and trust me, yeah.
You gotta hold me
and trust me,
yeah.
They finna dunno miss you waiting for the pump with the Hecate.
It slips through.
You'll be empty with it,
And it will wash all over you.
But it's gonna drain your blood to the sahji.