Paroles This About the City de cLOUDDEAD

Textes et Paroles de This About the City

on our perpetual bus ride home, slowly,we were all muzzle moutheded andrushing ice cream to the fridge at the crib.it's the same old new moon,gagging on the abc so onthat our colons have for us.now back to the bus:enter three blacks. a couple plus another;his half finished hair:white yarn extensions of herself.his face painted rainbowand bags on his handsturned inside outside inside out.the couple, in the bus belly air of punched out time,squirm with a static-starting laugh.they laugh (ha ha ha ha ha),standing for some nose-bitten high school status,sandblasted heterosexual samples on a slide of glass.don't they know you can't make somebodyon the verge of such self discoveryfeel uncomfortable?this whole busload of hydrogen, carbon, and secrets,umbilical doorbell to a-frame attachment, propertyrights, poker face of the globe maker's daughter,the whole empty zipped whore house secrets, secrets,all coming out of its face.full-faced mask withi-don't-want-to-say-soulbottomed eye holes.step out of your faceand back onto the carbonbased bus you're on.we got off the busat 29th and Broadway,same place we got on.it kept going.nothing happened.we wrote it downto give you eye holes.fuck the blindfold.how much can a bus coast?open your mouth or get off the bus.we got off to save our groceriesfeeling like we should have stayedfor three more stops."a man was died,a baby born,and heard...a plane flew over Broadway.

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