Текст (слова) песни: At The Drive In - Rolodex Propaganda
pinch history feel the pinch blistering pinch me in my dreams `cause i`m still not listening X marks the spot on your calendar days a beard half eaten smiled crawling with legs temper tempered temperature
manuscript replica
in infrared is how we saw the night that lit up scarecrow plots the nerve that pinches crippled hobbled frolicked flat on its own face
jigsaw pattern dominoes left a trail the whites of their eyes polaroids of the tale for our amusement we bring stares to the defendants mechanical panaceas absolved by history phonetic paralysis inflicted through morality the seed that it nurtured was a wilted bouquet temper tempered temperature
squirming through cuts in a throat cut it...cut it...
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