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Ed Tullett
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Malignant
Short parole for everyone,
you shake a big C.
Chauffeur soul to black baton,
you shake a big C,
you make it out.
Pray by the corner, weight-shy daughter,
we die.
Ritual stroll along chiffon,
we wake a big sea.
Short parole for everyone,
you shake a big C.
Chauffeur soul to black baton,
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you shake a big C,
you make it out.
I know it cannot tier itself,
bliss, a shallow tease in mouth,
oh, the narrow keel of health,
drank a dapper fear, aimed out.
Caught in a rainbow drown,
taught on a payphone,
not in a paved countdown,
you caught a sea.
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