When every wall's a Woman

This is not my idea of fun / I dip my head in pink for you
I shave my head in pink for you / I raise my end in pink for you
I shed this skin beneath the waves / in scarlet sash and pink bouquets
This is not... my idea of fun

In buckled lands the waters rise through the streets like a swelling beast
Come to take its bloated feast of men to dead to sing the blues
On beaches made of paper cups / on stages caked in salt n' crust
Mares silver, wild, and foaming... scatter music all around

I slip into this sanity / grope along walls with corners stretched
Across space as spare as a scimitar / above waves that grin like broken glass
(I've got a Gideon's and a .303 / don't take this world from under me
Or I'll slip through this uncertainty / Lord!, I'll feed that crimson wave for thee!)

There inside the prison walls / they pump to sleep in starts and stalls... every wall's a woman / every line suspends
The moments into hours / echo through the showers
The hollowness of self-caress... swimming to that place of rest



Credits
Writer(s): Ross Douglas
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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