Flush - Flesh Eating Foundation Remix
26 years on the cutting room floor
I'll tell you 'bout the tears but you'll only get bored
There's blood in my gullet
And my fingers scrape a hole
And outside on the asphalt you're still polishing the cold
But there's a tiny little story
Torn from tapestries of sweat
And once you taste out every detail
We can both say we forget
And with your engine round those stars
And with the shallow night refilled
Who would stop to take the measures
Of the memories we kill?
Flayed faith and rusty dreams flecked in foam
It's just my red, red wasteland but I've painted it like home
Dirt clots across the contours of an ugly machine
A twitching sky raining down kerosene
There are steel thoughts flocking
As you grease my creeping stare
With a bite of bruising digits
And a breath of beaten air
And my black sun burns
As you file down its flame
And squirt your blind fragrances
Like slugs inside my brain
Fight like a cornered scar
Slice footprints off your feet
So you can traipse back in tomorrow
And collapse against the meat
Till the strange lightless muck mulling deep beneath my veins
Slides a tongue loaded with acid in the orifice of your name
With the retch of tainted words
Sniff that honey like glue
Possessing every lie
Just as something sick and true
Clambers out of the void
Beneath the carve of the dark
And sticks a fucking chisel through the centre of your heart
It's a raw root ripped
From the only fucking rhyme
That could torch back any pain
Into the tunnels of my mind
Where the pincers of your love
Cut screams but never penetrate
The intestines of a soul
Digesting nothing less than hate
26 years on the cutting room floor
I'll tell you 'bout the tears but you'll only get bored
There's more blood in my gullet
And my fingers scrape that hole
But outside in my gutter you're still lying in the cold
The vain infantile tightened world can listen now
Limping ears lust with dispassion for a sweeter hit of sound
Oiled breakers beating bile at this ocean's blunted shore
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
I'll tell you 'bout the tears but you'll only get bored
There's blood in my gullet
And my fingers scrape a hole
And outside on the asphalt you're still polishing the cold
But there's a tiny little story
Torn from tapestries of sweat
And once you taste out every detail
We can both say we forget
And with your engine round those stars
And with the shallow night refilled
Who would stop to take the measures
Of the memories we kill?
Flayed faith and rusty dreams flecked in foam
It's just my red, red wasteland but I've painted it like home
Dirt clots across the contours of an ugly machine
A twitching sky raining down kerosene
There are steel thoughts flocking
As you grease my creeping stare
With a bite of bruising digits
And a breath of beaten air
And my black sun burns
As you file down its flame
And squirt your blind fragrances
Like slugs inside my brain
Fight like a cornered scar
Slice footprints off your feet
So you can traipse back in tomorrow
And collapse against the meat
Till the strange lightless muck mulling deep beneath my veins
Slides a tongue loaded with acid in the orifice of your name
With the retch of tainted words
Sniff that honey like glue
Possessing every lie
Just as something sick and true
Clambers out of the void
Beneath the carve of the dark
And sticks a fucking chisel through the centre of your heart
It's a raw root ripped
From the only fucking rhyme
That could torch back any pain
Into the tunnels of my mind
Where the pincers of your love
Cut screams but never penetrate
The intestines of a soul
Digesting nothing less than hate
26 years on the cutting room floor
I'll tell you 'bout the tears but you'll only get bored
There's more blood in my gullet
And my fingers scrape that hole
But outside in my gutter you're still lying in the cold
The vain infantile tightened world can listen now
Limping ears lust with dispassion for a sweeter hit of sound
Oiled breakers beating bile at this ocean's blunted shore
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
26 years on the cutting room floor
Credits
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