Dirty Veins Pulsing
When you close your eyes your see snow flakes and white mice And you promise to yourself that your going to win back your mind After you lost it in a card game on a bad hand at a square table And the amber piss is warmer than the air that you breathe But the fog that lifts up around you and everyone else Smells the same and is as warm as the applause that comes to you from the orchestration pit The garden would grow if it wanted to, but all it wants is to scream into the wind The ridge is green, the stump is grey, the road has gone so you make your own Every little trip you've taken you've taken a story of an artists life to read along the way But you have never told your mother where you were going You have never paid for your ticket or the paper that you use to fuel the fire You know of little villages that the highway bypasses full of farmers and their sons Jacking off in haysheds, swimming in the dams, covering naked shoulders in clay mud You know of the men...