Like tractionless wheels
They spin in place and throw up mud
The perforated lung
Thick smoke presses down
It'll be phoned in, the bogged down inertial stench
Decaffeinated law, the mud makes motion low
What about the young, what about the young rat
Decapitated dog, domesticated animal
Bigmouth strikes again, burnt at the steak house
Motivated sludge, ensorcelled hibernation
Last legs
This is just the lag time, waiting for the other shoe to drop
I felt you trying to help me, but you only curse jewelry
What's this dark miasma? What's this foul pestilence?
The stagnant water builds
The sleeping sandless days that took, a broken rudder ship
Buried in the shore again, buried in the couch forever,
Englaciated way of life
Obsolete machine
No more chances left.