Mary Timony The White Room
Hey little boy when I tried to call you, you were still
in bed
will one of us destroy the other like that dream I had?
The room is white and the clock ticks
I see nothing but now I feel sick
with 15 pictures taped to the wall
I can't see you in any of them at all.
Here it comes that poison melody plays to me
will it enter our brains and kill us while we sleep?
That kind of music can kill yr mind
I see it coming an apocalyptic sign
I know my thinking is serpentine
1,000 death worms marching in a crooked line.
One of us ride and the other walk
one of us shut up and the other one talk
That kind of music can kill yr mind
I see it coming an apocalyptic sign
