another country.

vocals chords sliding against skin
blood in your blood can equal my blood
equal my blood in your head can equal my skin
can be blood can be blood can be blood.

and you're life before seems so rustic,
seemed so eventful and slightly surface
yet sophisicated in the respect that no one dared to touch you.
you were admired and never belittled,
with a chest ten feet high and your arms always in the clouds.

there is no motivation here.
as i come hide beneath my feet,
i cling to some stranger's legs
and push my tounge onto your teeth.

static.
wanting to unfold in front of all of them
with reverb hitting against your breasts,
feedback agaisnt our skulls.

there are 100 pages left
and i am determined to see through all this dirt and mess.