Grave men in time of flight fall weary to venus gift rapped in red In a mountain wind that brings laughter to a school of swallow a delusion of lust and a forgotten drum bring turblulence to our flight Better tell your girlfriends we will rave at will in a madhouse of our meeting Better tell your girlfriends recount the dumb wonder your mother gave fair warning Better tell your girlfriends our tongues twist in sublingual irony spring tears absent minded of our fears The pristine breeze clamours to open skin
It coats in a waxy film and it builds up in clumps waiting for the muscled wind An arborization of limbs in a hollowed womb better tell your girlfriends to help dissolve our sin

03/22/2003