Arson of crystals
Drenched innards sing
Barter with boredom
Bleached at the seams
Dulled edge for training
'till the sharp one's in need
Doused with a primer
Painted 'till sealed
Aside from this blizzard of fuel
I feel fucking nothing
Scabbed cuts don't bleed much, you know
'till ripped off and opened
Pissed up on downers
Sunk down on paste
Promising vistas
Discovered through waste
Aside from this blizzard of fuel
I feel fucking nothing
Scabbed cuts don't bleed much, you know
'till ripped off and opened
This padding I wear when I've found
An absence of distance
Our bodies aren't temples, it's true
They're bomb testing grounds
Vistas
