Armistician, spit on my grave. You're the insensitive mason. You're the tethered salesman. Didn't see your neck there to break my fall. Listen up Fashion Bug: friend practice is cancelled today so there's no cut to make. Didn't hear your wrist snap. Didn't hear your shin split. But we'll see how quiet you get.
Track Name: T.J. COX
"You have to touch things to get anywhere." Over thought / Under stairs. Holster your childish thoughts.
Track Name: Bruised-Sons (Soft-Dudes)
Relent, relent, relent. Missionarys lose converts. Tears pile high; myopic tame and bridled. Relent, relent, relent. Recoil, whimper and break; like every other bruised pawn. Obvious, needless, fruitless. Spent/gone Just like every other bruised pawn. Spent/gone just like every other bruised son.