MPisacano

There's a flavor to this smoke. A knot besides the choke. The victory for liars. A knife for every throat. There's a actor for the stage. A word for every page. The place for all us others. The workers of the wage.

drop the dish in the sink it was the ring at the phone i knew that there'd be trouble by the sound of it's tone it's been twelve long years for me to pick up the call 'fraid my time has ended my suit's been pressed for the brawl. now let me tell ya a thing or two 'bout a man i know he lost a thousand pounds of soul cuz of the weight of these tolls he got ten hard years after his baby was born he said,"you best be listenin'- tell my momma, i'm gone." now did you hear bout this lady who was out past dark she'd been walkin home from Gilbey's all alone as the mark that's when i saw it happen to her she'd was dust in the wi

today was just so tongue and cheek from the whistle of these arrows we were flying through these fables shooting love down from our tower oh-when these letters stick together we'll pull the print from all the pages and melt away this mountain golden fountains by the sea Jesus christ- why dont you tell us? what does this praying mean? all the babies in this army built you're shrine atop our tree yeah-from Jack &Jill to these burning hills and all the things that we do for thrills take the time to unwind it will sting just a sec- tie a knot in his noose and run out on the check because the preacher has been asking who's t