_implantgrade - batbra1n lyrics
how we’re stuck closer, thin skin weeps
head under layers of angel food
pull but the tendons took to me
could’ve stained perfect and blessed the wood
but you went off and rested your
fragile lashes
on the offering that i left out for
mother bury us
you let your shoulder tar again
taught me it tastes best to erode
the pores in the straw that rights your back
under the doorframe i’ve laid your bolt
have you stayed up latеly
the dogs are out again
been trying to learn to sleep but thеyre
clawing at the glass
mother had me pray the patron saint of highways watch us when we left
cause once i kicked her stomach and the wreckage is still floating in her legs
the car spun ten times on the road
and she pled god’s good grace for the first time since she was young enough to want a son
how we’re stuck closer, i left with the wolves
and you woke to demand why your footprints weren’t home
the end of the service dismisses your forehead
and now we can rest everything but the bones
cry for a redwood box when your
ankles shake again
now you’ve got a taste for it you
know what they do to things like that
pass down the oil that seeps from her will
got a decade to hold whatever you can still
and the soft sunken eyes comes to collect the dust that you let dye her memories
you were always too tired to get the blinds closed
might as well take solace in tending to the burns
rack your body to scare off the resident ghosts
said it’s right out my ears when you’re begging for love
learned it’s best to ignore
it’s been helpful this month
won’t stop promising me that we’re both out of luck
have you stayed up lately
the dogs are out again
been trying to learn to sleep but theyre
clawing at the glass
mother had me pray the patron saint of highways watch us when we left
cause once i kicked her stomach and the wreckage is still floating in her legs
the car spun ten times on the road
and she pled god’s good grace for the first time since she was young enough to want a son
how we’re stuck closer, thin skin weeps
head under layers of angel food
pull but the tendons took to me
could’ve stained perfect and blessed the wood
but i went off and rested my
fragile lashes
on the offering that i left out for
mother bury us
mother had me pray the patron saint of highways watch us when we left
cause once i kicked her stomach and the wreckage is still floating in her legs
the car spun ten times on the road
and she pled god’s good grace for the first time since she was young enough to want a son
i said my bless you’s before it went dark
just like it taught me
and woke in a white empty box
pencils can get so dull they maul clean through
i bet she wouldn’t share her pills if you begged
there’s still not enough to fill up your patchwork windpipe
saltines on the high shelf and weights on my ankles
pins in the carpet to call on saint tet*n*s
racks of ribs made of seeds hung from the kitchen counter
would it be better if she was an angel?
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