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Subtle
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Swansong Meat (feat. Fog)
I suppose, when you wake up
And the dream you goes dodo
You will find, in your front pocket
One of those stubby golf pencils
Convincing living,
That you, yourself is convinced of living
Till your kidneys can't clean the convinced
out of your true blue blood stream
And are you not now, professionally hoodwinked
An easy street penis throbbing down breezy streets
In a b-line like, easy like, bees like, brokedown icecream truck's leaks
(x2)
Convincing
You see, however so slightly permanent,
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these have been things sung that will never be songs
(x4)
Oh (x6)
Oh, I suppose,
Not swansongmeat,
mor bit nails spit,
with strips of skin from chickens' lips,
Not wet concrete,
No stolen sleep,
When the water is sheets and bleeding sheep
Hung horrible hymns to a durable beat, and re-recordable grief
(x4)
Oh, I suppose
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