Who Is the Culprit and Who Is the Victim? - Snakefinger

Night after night, day after day

Everything bland, everything grey

Everything vague, cloudy and dim

Everything hollow pulling me in

I cannot see darkness and light

Where is the black, where is the white?

I cannot live looking at grey

Draw me some lines, what can I say?

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?

Which is the model, which is the pose

Which is the armchair, which is the rose

Which is the merchant which is the thief

Which is the nigga and which is the chief

Which is the mirror and which is the glass

Which is the gardener mowing the grass

Which are the deep plots, which are the tops

Which are the long weeds, which are the crops

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?

I had dream not long ago

Murky and strange, nothing to know

I had a woman, she had a brain

It wasn’t in her, I can’t explain

She wasn’t pretty, she was abrupt

She was dowdy, pleasant and plump

She had a blemish, maybe a mole

She made potatoes out of a bowl

She had a plane, I was on board

Filled up with honey, it wasn’t warm

Flew in the vacuum into the void

I couldn’t chuckle or be annoyed

There were no drinks, there were no treats

Nobody cared, not even me!

Something is vacant, something is blind

Something was empty, it wasn’t mine

Where were the mighty, where were the sore?

Where were the genders, whatever they’re for?

Where was the tanker filled up with oil?

Where was my brother, covered with boils?

Where was the hot dogs, down in the street?

Where are the mosquitoes, covered with fleas?

Where was the concrete, soiled and burned?

Tattered in driveways, covered in worms

What could I do, what could I say?

Everything grey, day after day

Day after day

Day after day

Day after day

Gimme some torture, gimme me some heat

Gimme some excitement out on the street

Gimme a hot day, a hundred and ten!

Gimme some sugar, gimme your friend

Gimme some music, make it too loud

Gimme a good guy, make me feel proud

Gimme a fight, make it be rough

Gimme some money, more than enough

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?

Who’s the culprit, who’s the victim?