pre-dawn drizzle on a tattooed soul expectation amputated
from faith inside a skin less innocent than old waiting
for the angels the angels the angels
waiting for the angels to fall

from the sky rapture and thrust high-strung and hard little things
dying moaning in the crowd the heart seldom beats in
rhythm with wisdom dreams like serpents twist
with thought the nature of fire is to

always consume high-strung and hard
high-strung and hard inhale the fantastic cough and
choke teeth can be broken chewing on hope in spiritual chaos
angels die feel the storm slash through

the crowd know that the gut know that the gut know
that the gut can seldom feel just just rapture and thrust
high-strung and hard inside a skin less innocent than old the
inarticulate caresses cerebral anxiety listen to the voice of an

urban world lonely concrete electric light
hustle hustle hustle hustle of a squeegee against
cold glass something for throat something
for vein something for under

pulsating tongue expectation amputated from faith rapture
and thrust rapture and thrust ideals are anchors slow to
rust potential is myth future flux beat in rhythm
dawn burns the crowd.
 

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Background by Kalazar