there's a cold liar under these soles.
there's a place I can hide where no one ever goes.
cut to these feelings - straight through the ceiling tonight!
an electrical king with a crown of live thorns says:
"we all want it black and white!" - like our lives!
time will erase him (his hopes - his dreams - our fears).
but bloody hands remain (the country so unclear).
and all that we've done is just bury the gun
if we don't see this now then we never will.
push in the potion - you've quelled the commotion I'll say!
an oswaldian theory: "he's the one! don't get near me!"
we all want it anyway...