FAMINEPULSE

you can't bend your crooked arms or fold your punctured proof the air is growing cold... and there's nothing you can do soon there'll be no gauze inside the confessional only rows of crows defrocking every breath, breath, breath… and one day you'll remember behind the melting cones and one day you'll remember behind the melting cones you always had a family in the burial of your home in the burial of your home... peel back and let it all run... peel back and let it all run...