Cloud Rat - Bolt Gun | Текст песни

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• Cloud Rat
• Bolt Gun

...The rising heat of a blistering cell, pulsating.
Brass teeth that gnaw and grind.
A collared neck that is raw.
A woman alone holding a child,
Playing unharmed and sweet.
Fungus that evolves into the next type of species.
Radiation silence. Aging man in a chair.
Violence. Mourning. Courage. Resistance.
Rupture the lungs. Bolt gun to the temple.
Endless sips from my glass of water.
“I lay there again,
Drops of sweat slowly sliding from my hairline.”

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