Play her, a harpsicord tuned to toneless times, stroked from midnight to the late a.m.'s/
A so-so journey, the hub of insecurity, dried by level-headed gents/
Soft dents but cleaned right, next sunday's sale/
Drunken and lonely, easy for the kill/
Who knew I grew as you were buried in beds/
Collar shirts and bro crews taste weak and suspect/
No sleep loss/
inch more of rust/
Been here too long/
I ask victum to whom?/
corked but completely stale, destined for the drain/
sauced and sunken, you'll never close again/
who knew i grew as your womb stretched/
trucks and booming bass sound longer than they appear/
No sleep loss/
inch more of rust/
Been here too long/
I ask victum to whom?/
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