Now bring it out
Like a finger in the back of your mouth
Cherubs and cerebellum Tara at Sarahs wedding
Sam marrying Sam
Band pushed upon the finger of Sams hairiest hand
If that sickens you you a bigot
If it doesnt well youre wicked
Such is life
Odd as Egg McMuffins at night
No answers so let us watch these dancers
Structure reformed gracefully being born
On the pallet of dark greys concaves and spirals
Kaleidoscope into a Eiffel
It ripples then it tidals
Vacillates then it virals
Babylons then it Bibles and others
And tell me of the spinning mothers
And todays mathematics for beloved
And beasts bellies covered like the cummerbunds of butlers...

[Nikki Jean:]
How was your day can I make what you say
What I wanna hear cause I want you here
The hell that we raised to the heavens do anything for
La petite mort la petite mort

They keep the bottles just to make glass houses
Then climb up to the second floors and throw rocks out it
Then expect not a volley in reply
Some place vulnerable like prolly in the eye
What of the chicken? what is it missin is it dry?
Did it die in some inhumane conditions so it didnt go relaxed
And attention from its demise pulled all of the flavour from the fat
And made it flat and rather lifeless
Well theres a place that has a stunning [?]
And more mercifully murdered Pisces
But barbaric are still the prices
Its rather niceless apricot in dices and fromage slices
My son will call risotto rices
If and when hes left to his own devices well
How is your memory?
Is it returning like a lemon tree
To bear bitter fruit of what you meant to me
Or was it slippin like permission am I trippin like Phil
I feel Im grippin but maybe the transition
Still left out the life also left out the will grief
Will cheese never touch your teeth
Maybe like kosher beef
Is it real is it real is it real
Ha hah!

[Nikki Jean:]
How at the date can I make you my break
Cause I want you dear ooh I want you dear
The hell that we raised to the heavens make [?] for
Our petite mort our petite mort

So glad youre back but not glad at that youre [?]
Where is the glamour in collapse?
Where in the shatter of the facts shoves one back to a pattern of stab wounds
Swoon ridden goons consumed and driven mad soon
The attended years slowly fills with baboons
That other monkey business
Where killers go free cause a junkies a funky witness
Runny mascaras from the cunning mask wearers of death
Bygone errors sittin like two oil derricks
Separated by a sea of cooling num nums
Reminiscing of an every day playing hum drum
Where recognition went unnoticed
And then solidified till it was stoic
We shouldve been poets
Somewhere between amateurs and grandmasters of iambic pentameter

[Nikki Jean:]
How are your chains do they make you behave
Keep you over here by your overseer
Fallen from grace down from heaven to memories [?]
La petite mort la petite mort