We've eaten less.
by Johnny Crimson
There's something silent about catastrophe
that never gets a nod.
No acknowledgement to talk about,
just a stiff-necked facade.
This just in, oh well forget it.
That happened without a blink,
and every time I turn to talk to you
you're bent over the sink.
So if its fate don't let it happen
take a scissor to its eyes,
bite the knuckles of your lover
twist her fist down toward her thighs.
Cos there is science in the hallway
and I got some on the lamp,
I feel more gross when I'm forgiven
like a terrorist in confession...
Like the written words of an oral test
that we can't touch or see.
Someone dreamt of a tornado
and was awakened in the trees.
Feel this rock that burns against you
like the scraping of a muscle
feed this appetite I'm begging you
someone's coming,better hustle.