Death Of A Martian — аккорды и текст

She's got a sword in case

Though this is not her lord in case

The one who can't afford to face her image is restored to grace.

Disappeared,

No trace.

Musky tears.

Suitcase.

The down turn brave little burncub

Bearcareless turnip snare rampages

Pitch color pages...

Down and out but not in Vegas,

Disembarks and disengages.

No loft.

Sweet pink canary cages plummet

Pop dewskin fortitude for the sniffing black noses

That snort and allude to dangling trinkets

That mimic the dirt cough go drink its.

It's for you.

Blue battered naval town slip kisses

Delivered by duck muscles and bottlenosed grifters

Arrive in time to catch the late show.

It's a beehive barrel race.

A shehive stare and chase wasted feature

Who tried and failed to reach her.

Embossed beneath a box in the closet

That's lost.

The kind that you find when you mind your own mysteries.

Shiv sister to the quickness before it blisters

Into newmorning milk blanket.

Your ilk is funny to the turnstyle touch

Bunny whose bouquet set a course for bloom without decay.

Get your broom and sweep the echoes

of yesternights fallen freckles...away...