Struck Matches - Bop English

Struck matches filling corners of a window sill

Barn cat with the sickness leaning perfectly still

Against a dead moon kill

By all the desires that it feels along the way of their great big hill

Now I’ve seen you talking down from a borrowed throne

If you had a nickel for every chance that you’d blown

You set out for a week on the sea for relief and fresh company

I like to imagine a killing spree where every victim is me, and all the jokers

you see

On the screens and machines

They provide the scenes and the means for your

Many fabric complex

I see a walking disaster

Won’t it just fade away

I see a walking disaster

What’s it gonna have to say

What’s it gonna have to say

Built you a filter that you keep in your room

Under a box old mattress with a golden spoon

You press holes in your gloom and breathe in all the fumes, getting deeply in

tune, awaiting the next wave of attack

Now you’re digging in the icebox for something to have

Wrapped in tin foil and shoved way in the back

Sits a memory of ten dozen laughs

Somebody suggesting you got the kinda hunger you just can’t feed

I like coffee and you like tea

We want to make a little money but you can’t sell me

There ain’t nothing free that can call somebody something but we

We all already all knew that

I see a walking disaster

Won’t it just fade away

Look here walking disaster

What’s it gonna have to say

What’s it gonna have to say

What’s it gonna have to say

What’s it gonna have to say