Flea Circus from November Antique by Molly Zenobia

You say...

Say a little more ...
how smart ...
you think you are.

Knuckles, knuckles, a couple more
cakes for the quirks in my "kindness of heart"
Were you dripping to start with your
only sounds of

You're only as big as a
trap door was in my eyes but
whose lightning is it ...
that you strike down?

Hold my hand,
you wish you were there
Come and die with the old chauffeurs
Watch how the world dies
with a baby that's born
Growing to say which castle is yours
You wonder ...
were all the bricks laid
with your back turned?
You say, hello, hello, hello crypt keeper;
Look, look, look there,
there's your arsonist
Watering.
Watering plants with your fools,
eating out our brains with some spoons
Say once more ...
how pure you are...

Don't go there.
don't go there.
don't.

• Experimental
• art rock
• heart break
• indie rock
• vintage
• vocals
• Los Angeles