I used to see you throwing rocks
At feral cats
And shooting up your [?]
At river rats
But lately all I see is your
Empty hand
Held out for a crumb of grace
Absence, and
Our tumbleweeds are tangled with your trash
But you can pleasure every hole, watch your back
Broke now, you’re finally following the cash
A trail of blood from the right side of your tracks
Through the walls, many cracks
Tumbleweeds, filled with trash
Your face is riffed like Turgenev
Dirty puddles
Flowing from the dark of your
Forbidden tunnels
Stop, and turn around
Go back in
And make your bed out of what was
My coffin
Our tumbleweeds are tangled with your trash
But you can pleasure every holе, watch your back
And you’re finally following the cash
A trail of blood from the right sidе of your tracks
Through the walls, many cracks
Tumbleweeds, filled with trash
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