Album: Westing(by Musket and Sextant)
From now on
I make haste
To carry my skin
Into the arm
Must have been
Never less
Never less
Caught, might grow in
To a mind that eats
Like a big taste lie
I've laid low
From now on
This is a joke
When he sees the skin
Wrought on me
Play low
From now on
This is a joke
Can I see the skin rot
On a dog stray's hide