algebra suicide - praxis | Текст песни

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• algebra suicide
• praxis

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The opposite of green unleashed a new animal
[?] calls where liquid lips were just released from lockjaw
A pale boy grabbed my hand as I walked by
And thinking his left eye aglow, spun it around to show me Germany,
Land of husky women and beer, and thought I was impressed.
I seem to remember chatting with an unskillfully dressed girl
Whose first name meant a lively Polish dance
She described how sometimes, an unborn baby will press its face up against its mother's womb
Thinking it a window. It must be why children look like distortions of their parents.
Each time a voice is raised or a skinny black tie is flung romantically across the room
I cringe like a sensitive plant.
There was a largeness about this place which makes people abandon their silence
In (and?) their clothes, and those (no?) such things should only be discussed in telegrams
Many photos are taken, and soon we find ourselves guilty and inflated
Between pages of a magazine.