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A thousand muses blowing off your doors
Howling numen boring out your skull
Everyone says you don't use it
There's famished music roaring out your lungs
But Latin roots are rolling off your tongue
Everyone says you don't use it
Tether your thoughts to brute locution
How many months 'til you just lose your mind?
Let my speech go all to pieces
Howling numen boring out your skull
Everyone says you don't use it
There's famished music roaring out your lungs
But Latin roots are rolling off your tongue
Everyone says you don't use it
Tether your thoughts to brute locution
How many months 'til you just lose your mind?
Let my speech go all to pieces
Song Info
Submitted by
bananahero On Dec 28, 2009
More The Weather Machines
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