the little town where you were born is slanted. all the clouds that float above
were planted. all of the kids are grown here like fancy clones. paperweight
souls cant hold down their flighty bones. but we know their weakness. we
know they have no heart. a penguin line calls you out to join them. a steady
march until the end- a countdown. all of the sounds you here are the ratchet
swings. working to hold up signs for the profit kings. we know their weakness
we can push them all out. father destroyer, just blow your whistle and Ill go
to work. I already know who, but, just tell me which ones go down first.
the fish that swims upstream and on is granted another wish, a sea of stars,
a big win. if he can reach the sky theres still danger here. tentacles wait
and see what the currents bring near.
father destroyer, just blow your whistle and Ill go to work. killing comes
easy. give me a chance to drown my thirst.
it is the kill time.