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The knife in shades of brown, ragged, dumped and battered
But royal in his stance aside a ring of fire
Hunt him down, never tire
The surge of straight society
Is pinning your gaze to reality
Let go – there is more to do
I’ve got more to show you
Like: never overestimate yourself

A schizofrenic glaze in the eyes of the man who drives around
On four flat tires
Your sister cuffed with ironwire
And found a few weeks later by the remnants of the fireplace
He built to light the blaze of passion
They should shoot him now
The gain could never be higher
Never underestimate them either

Bottle after bottle of pain after lust
I’ll drink up, no worries, and catch the wind’s every gust
Then, dusting down, my horns will rise
Amidst my moonlit flutter there will be terror in my eyes
In my eyes

It’s a dark beach, a very long one, if you walk it alone
And it’s pretty bad to see the sun moves faster than you
And it’s taking your bone
You want to lie down, but it’s getting colder
And the water is deep all around

The blur of white in front of you
Is the length of non-existant poison ivy
And the faces in the grey
Staring at you from a past as bleak as the day
Are as much of a nutcase as we
There must be more than my eyes can see
Give us eyes and let us look
Write us words of wisdom in a book
We shall buy it ’til it’s vanished from the shelves
But bending down on both sides our minds are our hides

There is so much crap, so do not trust
Sanctify madness, and die if you must
We have both had enough, there is only so much
One can put on a postcard, that is, if you write as such