Woorden: Murder By Death. Killbot 2000.

a smell like cigarettes creeps softly through the vents the room is filling
up with smoke and little bodies tell all the boys and girls from school to
keep breaking all the rules to let their parents know they're individuals
datura flakes off from your lips you've lost the swagger in your hips your eyes are turning blue to gray your skin feels soft and sagging down your arms drag across the ground with each step you take and they fall from the jungle gyms and they fall and piss away each night among the sound of bodies crawling round the room i can smell their flesh on everything left in this room chalk and scattered crayons on empty desks for weeks finding clumps of unwashed hair caught between the vents blowing carry their little bodies to the cemetary so gently please don't let their necks crook towards the ground.