This question is cruel
We starved
A door kissed, rotting away
With children blue like stars
Or small knives dulling with age
Spitting on the empty features of one bought
That I refuse to thank now
Try to make that face now
I’ve had enough
Vacancies cry out
As ills tend to now
Broken thumbs by count
One by one in rounds
Brief like beauty carved
Then salt tears
Wash it away
And children blue like stars
Or small knives dulling with age
I keep gleaming in this empty ceiling
That I abused with shame
And that I refuse to blame now
Try to make that face now
I’ve had enough
Vacancies cry out
As ills tend to now
Broken thumbs by count
One by one in rounds
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Feeding Fingers Lyrics – This Question is Cruel