Wrist soon will bury me
Under alive. Assume that culture will comply
Exfoliate to breathe. How could You not believe me, oh why?
A corbel we are not. This capital so selfish, somehow smooth
An unimportant life, is captured by the lesions You won’t hide
It’s pulling me, of course it pulls
Under our throats. How could You not believe me, oh why?
A corbel We are not. The frost bit teeth are so pressured
When digging through a mound of what We built. What We built on
So cut the bounds, We ventured on
No one will contest our arms, no will compress whats ours.
I seem to be the least of these. Why don’t You bore me with statue wit?
I seem to be the least of these. Why don’t You bore me?
How could You not believe me, oh why? A corbel We are not
If only earth was just a man, would You swallow him?
Would You swallow his life?