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At The Drive-In Relationship Of Command Invalid Litter Dept. intravenously polite it was the walkie-talkies that had knocked the pins down as their shoes gripped the dirt floor in the silhouette of dying dancing on corpses' ashes yeah, they had plans for him they has spun the last of the pimps corduroy, satin nailed jewelry lips while the guillotine just laughed again dancing on the corpses' ashes paramedics fell into the wound like a rehired scab at a barehanded plant an anesthetic penance beneath the hail of contraband they had been defected and excommunicated and all the pulses were subverted and they made sure the obituaries showed pictures of smoke stacks a vivid dissection that mocked the strut of vivisection semi-automatic colonies and a silencing that still walks the streets in the company of wolves was a stretcher made of cobblestone curfews the federales performed their custodial customs quite well callous heels numbed in travel endless maps made by their scalpels on my way nails broke and fell into the wishing well |
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