"sore fact: the whole morphin lore is more a rorschach."
-baniel smams
lyrics
touch cold hands in no rush
love wonderous tempts and their bones crush
storm stems from the stolen halogen gems
juice of aloe
solid gold crescendos for tens
choose which cool sap the pinecone bled
extract for lucy in the skyblue headphones
cologne that a friend owns of ginger root and fall leaves
and old blind landline dialtones
sleep fast to the moon's unusual tidal sounds
a red glass bottle with a grass blade tied around
blue smoothie denim kiss
hieroglyphs spit from heaven are watermelon pits
oh
splash in the pitch black ocean
sit back and sip The Hit The Low Splits Potion
those coquelicots don't float dead in liquor
brittle rolled crépe lipstick-red richards
behold in the coals of the mystery
*thick cold fake lip snake rope trickery
at least i'm hopin so
soapin up to victory
strokin broken toes slow
ghostess smoking rows of glowsticks
thick cold fake lip snake rope tricks
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