Day Fourteen: Pulse Mavens

Saw him get his death march on
Saw him light the aisles with hidden handjobs sheltered from the masters' baiting crowns
In overzealous crowds
In undernourished sounds
I know what you want, grey wanderlust

You want to walk into each and every room and see a photograph that shreds your chest
And makes it hard to see, but makes it worth it to breathe

They don't sell it 'round here no more
So put your shoes back on, and get your hopes all gone

It's all come up wrong
It's all come up unbelonged

Well, if you want to stay 'til dawn
I can tell you where the guns are kept and you can shoot your warning shots and hear the cries of all of those in debt
Because you see here, beginner reconstructor
And they are free to those who knew the names of crime design and love unkind
They are free to those like us
Those who've been left behind
It's all wrong
It's all unbelonged

And the sadist air raid blares to faces in the tar as we murder the ghosts that held this town

Saw the structures fall apart and raise foundations into forget city under exhibitionist regimes
Stamp the hands, pull the teeth and kill the ones in need
So I'll tell you, runner
I'll tell you you can live the life
You can take your time and you can fuck 'til you feel
But it won't break the bread they make, they own, they sell, they steal
Because as long as they have bones to snap and grind into the welcome wheel
They'll take your fix for another meal
And they'll send you to the end of the line you can live your days like I've fucked my nights
With a death march on our minds