Tytuł: Health Surface

• Wykonawca: Crass
• Wyświetleń: 362

Places of sickness nurse me cold,
  Attendant whiteness glare in dark,
  Straighten out the winding sheet
  Twisted round in poorest dreams.
  Shattered proofing of the lost,
  Splinter shackled, little wounds
  Of cruelty and truth, they tie
  The one way sickness up inside.
  Regressive smile, a baby's laugh,
  A learnt contortion of the mouth,
  Places of laughter leave me cool,
  Hot fire dying down to ash.
  Beauty breezes through so swift,
  Endless roundabout of grief.
  Not much to ask, a rightful place
  Where nothing matters, but can't touch
  Without a sinking heart, this sigh
  Could be the wind among the leaves.
  This pain does not belong to me,
  They've taken everything away
  To nurse the sicknesses of loss,
  Instilled with fear and bleachy guilt
  Impatient winds up in her cloth.
  The tired shoes are splitting up
  With weighty promises of love,
  Waiting for the last to fall away
  Buckle noose around the strap
  All that separates the flesh
  From green grass or sinking mud.
  Stagnating, knowing the delusion,
  Clean sheets waiting for a body,
  Slapped into life and slowly gutted.
  A place of sickness is to die in
  Tired of the cruelty and lying,
  Drip-fed tears of the forsaken.
  They say, "Well soon have you up and walking".
  Took the prison for a stronghold.
  Took the lies for a love-song.
  Paid for life on a shoestring.
  
  Waiting for the last to fall away
  Buckle noose around the strap
  All that separates the flesh
  From green grass or sinking mud.