pounds of filth on the back of myself evil cannot smile tentacles they are cellular there s hidden demise arent they nice ohh aren t they nice ohh weeks of wait will the doctor say yes or no to us even so i will always love you tomorrow is fear ain t it nice ohh my device it will call my demise you pray and hound you cry silent whimpers through the night i know its hard yet accept that well be what it is molds of goo rotting in my bloodstream they swim in me aren t they nice ohh ain t it nice ohh my demise
['el paso indie']