Burning hands, bearing bread, and succulence.
What is dead will never end.
Fairest of careless heads
Loathing on all your friendly beds.
Four walls cannot suppress your lead.
Weary feet, treading beat, so obsolete.
You are dead, but so desecrate.
our own slick naive
loathing on all of our beliefs.
Four walls will be our end.
Let your records play. I won't stay.
Because I can't bide my time.
All this bided time and frozen eyes.
Heavy heave.
Very kind, free and prime.
Risky death.
Bide and rhyme, bide and rhyme.
I don't mind to bury you
Under lead
Just to hide you instead.
Let your records play. I won't stay.
Because I can't bide my time.
All this bided time and frozen eyes.
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