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What is a city without lines? |
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A forest floor with some children that don't work no more |
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I am the bush that peeks through blinds |
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Don't fall behind, rain makes the sheets |
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For high-tide bakers who bake fancy cakes for magistrative sensitives |
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And anyone who is for the disconnective gestures of the frontline blue blood pedlars |
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Sign off, their mothers are boars |
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Hold the lines, the ferries are sinking |
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Set upon, wait, your face |
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I fought the radar |
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Isle of Paul, the backs are breakers |
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Anyone you're thinking of? |
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We come from cities |
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We built the cities |
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What is a charter without maids? |
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While the beaches are cold |
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Set the branches so they burn like gold |
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And bold sensations for the broken home urchins |
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Buy their shells, I thought about it |
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Ferries and bowlers and maybe we're headed for the bottom |
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Frozen lake, love and sons of divorce |
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I feel my kind is beating blood upon night's door |
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What for, dear? |
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Tell me what for |
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Hold the lines and blow your feathers |
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Ripe for the birthing |
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I fought the radar |
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The city you live in is a magistrative nightmare |
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Famous lakes |
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We burnt the back seats |
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Oh mastication, we hate the front lines |
