lay me down in a hearseback it s where my new best look is at if i slit a purse or two then i can t curse if my cake is cooked and minor veins are mapped these tits not filled with milk these cold bones wrapped in hunger like a bundle of sticks in a fire so slow it leaves them unburned black and yearning will this new year s see my rotting hair s release will my new black book pull the sick from my deepest creases a gift from the maccabees to mom to me no more flyer backs or receipts using magazines for tables a girl s down bed and corresponding naked wings unable when i felt my ribs come closing slow a row of snakes set to strangle i m survived lay me down in a hearseback it s where my new best look is at if i slit a purse or two then i can t curse if my cake is cooked and minor veins are mapped but you might find me in the white pages yet my name is next to numbers like someone s father s father left listed in the book of numbers like someone s father s father left listed in the book of numbers
['abstract hip hop', 'bay area indie', 'indie rock']