August, 2003 Fog Horn Misty mind I only swim when the water Is shrinking cold Pollution frozen Bed clothes Cling to me Oil to skin Sweaty, black, Dead moon Strolls by moaning night
The polish almost revolution of 1750`s Clangs across dollar pages A dried marsh Kill a bull for kindness Eat the flesh of crumpled stars Crime Incorporate Association Eats a McDonald consciousness Fabricated Bush Intelligence Stalks the night In search of whom? Which organisation do you sing for? Are you Lieutenant Joseph Petrosino? Are you the Don Vito Cascio Ferro?
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