suicide bummer - fine fiction | Текст песни

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• suicide bummer
• fine fiction

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I bet you swallowed your food
before learning to chew.
I bet your front teeth feel loose
when your backbone is moved
to another mattress,
so we call you Lazarus,
but I'm the one in my bed
skinning salt linens off my legs.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Can't you tell by the harvest?
Or the imprints on your envelope white thighs?
We're out of order;
fonts of paragraphs untyped
and a failed initiative
will one day make
a fine, fine fiction.

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