Panic, what the fuck did they to do you? with false alarms, with bulletins, and death cards calling out the murder suits? someone, anyone... give the
Saw him get his death march on.... saw him light the aisles with hidden handjobs sheltered from the masters' baiting crowns. in overzealous crowds. in
Get them propped and boxed, and fixed on forced remarks... on haggard glimpse, on a primal blitz, and meet me at the hole where the bodies are dumped
There were smelling salts that day, and she was like him was like them was like us, holding plagiarized decisions based off backlogs of survival tactics
Where they cast the cults was where we dripped our walking sticks and we bit the suits of armor draped on every boneless body bound stripped and singed
