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I drink the red, I spit it up, tipping my glass I can never shut up. I try to heal, the wound never shuts, I'm always on the downside. And hopefully I try to spell, the story of a busted tale, another bucket in the well of forward, backward, sink and steal. And you and them my friend, relieve yourselves with gifted grace, I move the idler that I am. I am the baptized, backhanded, bandit, brother tucked into the day, neatly packed away and breathing gently, we are the waves. But who are they? I hope that you, I hope that you can be my wave and all that we can be eventually will keep us free. I try to break the chorus, always bring unsober judgement, I try to wake myself up now. I'm waiting on razors. Singing Vauderville. I'm behind you. Sincerely I don't even know a single thing. This vessels here. From Letras Mania