the curtains were made for moving 'cause you know, sometimes you're not always there. you don't need it now; your head's shaped like a cow. till all is here, the world's just a sphere, no bigger than the balls she sucks.
hey you, with your hat down, don't you know that can't be where it's always at? you've all been always there; your head's shaped like a pear. you search through the light, instead of jumped in the pie of life that you slice till it's just dry.
you're so often seen along the westside wheel of the meals that you steal to get around the curtain of this loss. it's always made you feel the best. you always made less and less of the casual forces that lead you away from the nest.