Album: 38 Counts Of Battery (2000)

Pixie


Young unicorns snatched from the impossible skies precious horns, ordinary chainsaws.
I am left with horses revolting in the normalcy shipwrecked by a face all sweet and empty
like a hollow candy or an ice cream smile licked down to a cigarette i promptly extinguished
in a dead infection a desk drawer full of blurry sunflowers.
under your bare feet are only symptomatic of the monster i have become.