V.i.p.s Frankness Of The Pressthroated Person...
It's my arm and it's my beauteful eye My compassion and my running sing On and on I hear the noise inside me I think to keep it or not to keep I was born with a beast, with a hole. Soul is hole Enemy lives by my body He steals my happiness I don't belong to me Blackness... Whiteness Black pale on the fate Blister... Fortune... Shadow... Pickles... Wind. Take him away from me Enemy lives by my body He steals my happiness I don't belong to me
