(tentatively)




as I likely wax asinine
A fluid channel I just can't find
Trapped in the nosebleeds amoung elites
All but contrived, and without relief
Fresh lye for your lies, in your eye for this sty
But sans solice is my vapid catharsis

This time of year, functions to spear
But as a snag,or an abrasive snare?
And I've done nothing but avoid all their stares
And a verbatim punch line, I swear I'm not!
But really these stabs only season the pot
To think we've been scant, done naught but wined...
As hard I wiggle and writhe, I find

Chorus:
I'm still drug under by current and swine
I'm all bound up in fucking minus signs
I'm shook out like apples avine
Turns out, the feeling is malign




Kindling bluffs to breed alacrity
And we did nothing but flatten to pity
so we'll burn bridges just to char your arms
And the water you'll seek amoungst the alarms
as they scream out inside dead navy eyes
Is just out of reach and still wrapped, as your prize!

But a ways away are these such of days
So tarry and pace as we drag our gaze
And tremble for nothing, one thought in mind
beclouded and baited, and dimly awaited, I find...


Chorus:
I'm still drug under by current and swine
I'm all bound up in fucking minus signs
I'm shook out like apples avine
Turns out, the feeling is malign



Dread hopes held high as seasons dredge by
As nasty neighbors, we're hung high outside
impish little sidecar warriors, standin' by
but moreso morose and peevish we cry
still so contrived, failing contrite,
But marvel you will, at our grandest revile
(Am I breaking the fourth-wall with all 'a my wiles?)
Regardless, we seek, and plot all the while,
so tightly strung and devoid 'a rewind,
it's only a matter of time until you find...

Gang'll gag you all up in the vines,
because we all know you feign "not a swine!"
we'll shoot the breeze while they watch your teeth
We'll shake out your cents and shatter your feet,

We'll finally show you who here's malign...

(And believe me, you'll swallow each one!)

But up till then we'll wait, binded a stead
Watching, wrists wringing, turn blindly ahead...
From outside your window and under your bed,
Through keyholes in doorknobs, will our eyes thread,
Will jaws clatter and clammer, all red and unwed!
from cracks under doorways and inside your head -
sans rust is our altar at which you'll be bled!