Rock, Post Grunge, folk,
Musical Tourettes: Fuck Categories
Lyrics
Feather
O my mother, my giver of life
She took that line before my eyes
Went without clothes, went without food
Her money’s in the high
I the child
Intoxicate, white powdery sand
She rolled that straw to wonderland
Went to the moon, went to the stars
With my blood upon her hands
I the child
Her wad is spent, she lies on the floor
Wonders when her life walked out that door
Razor blades are tucked in the drawer
As she fiends for more
I the child
Stuttering, speechlessness
Alone, thinking, sleeplessness
Expressions denied, tries to overcome
The disease of the shy
Love or lust, contemplating
Bleeding disgust, anticipating
I know I’m falling fast and hard
But will she catch me?
I the child
O my mother, my giver of life
She took that line before my eyes
Went without clothes, went without food
Her money’s in the high
