Follow. Let's go. The highway lights are blinding. The angles... There's too much light. The traffic of words. The words. The words. We're going down together, We're connections in the underground, Playing hide and seek with the central line. (Walking his nine dogs, The grey man's gonna fall forever.) You couldn't see the silver light, my bitter friend? The drink, gimme a drink or a cigarette. Spent words... With your hand over me baby, let's go! "Hey you, is there any end in crime?" Moon's heart has melted the pen Again. No, it wasn't the pen- You've got me in a headlock full, full of ink, Dark blue oily ink. I cannot see, I'm a labrador not a poodle. Not a labradoodle Not a poodle Not a sound Fucking genius Gimme a drink, gimme me. Baby let's go. (There, his shadow!) The pen. The underground. Let's go. My charity lights the sky, The highway's darkest night sky. The highway gun, The central line, An endless fight, An end in sight. The feverfew. The grey man stays in the interview room Telling. Staying on the move. Gravity's pull will bring out the words. The silver light, the bitter lights are blinding. I can't see, I cannot see, I cannot see, without a cigarette, Gonna fall forever, We're cruising down... 1 is 2 1 is 2 Wrote this song in my mouth- I'm going under my skin. My skin. My. M.
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