a sideways gin upon my mouth and slant jig on my feet
i smell the death of a hundred suns as i walk into the street
well the police have gone through the back of my house
and are drinking whiskey there
they know me from my bloodshot eyes
and my greasy unkempt hair
in my car i broke my mirror and drove across the lake
that dried and filled with bones of steers and bodies set to bake
why do you know the make of my car
and it's performance on the lanes,
when you're driving really it aint far
unless you go insane
flames arose in the back of my mind and writhed with wisdom there
the phoneix scream is long and loud like burnt feathers in blue air
i drew my fire fast and hot
around me where I care
my family moved out the front of my house and found my shoes set there
i took a ride on a railway car with nothing but skin to wear
the police have gone through the back of my house
and are drinking whiskey there
they know me from my bloodshot eyes
and my greasy unkempt hair.
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