Texty: Heavy Heavy Low Low. Eating The Porridge, Killing The Bears.

your gift horse has brought flies
and the stench is unbareable
i'm left with no option,
but to embrace apathy and loneliness
hoping that i die

i took a train to new york city
met a guy who i THOUGHT was pretty

tiny strands of skin could never hold a whole
begging to nurse its mouth to health


strip the skin from the inside out
you didnt think they'd notice
(you looked them straight in the face)

i always said that we'd watch them die
(you looked them straight in the face)