Salt on Everything - SOLE

Seven thousand day cough, my lungs of an old woman

Of a racist race called man, I’m a word machine

Without enough words to be composed or the worms to decompose

My old song body, pretty, for the showing

Party women with painted faces

Only pretty for their lawyers, everything’s illegal

'Cause they’re pretending to breathe

Better to be sick in the head then sane in the city

Like there’s a difference or a reason to stay in the city

Sell the mob to the king, sleep with the dragon

Slay the princess, lay peaceful in the nothingness

Laughing outside, my opinion permeates and lives forever

The way people live to be remembered

Then and only then, see me perfect

More perfect than the sidewalk

More expensive than my shoes

More meaningful than hidden messages

In a quite safe, quiet walk

You forget your personality when they birth

In the after-birth

I still fake it, like I’m naked

If you got the right sunglasses, I wrote this on cough drops

With the secret conveyor belt, in the sidewalk

And the big, laughing, gaping, drooling, lipsticked-up

And dressed like the lighter side of Death

Neon eyes, cold to the touch

And there’s salt on (psssh)

Salt on everything

Salt on… salt on everything

Melt me a princess thought like an open wound

To bleed to sleep, to plead to work, to heal no loyalty

To things that don’t keep clean

Wither my old tongue or old tone

To the man making all the new shadow puppets

I like your style more worthwhile then rubbish

A big break for bad taste, acting like faith is a face

A dumpster man singing a dumpster song of redemption

Share the broken note, it’s the only note

People here got thick skin

To hold the nothing in

There’s salt on everything, salt on everything, salt on everything

But I put it on nothing

Lick your merry lips off and hum it

All in a bowling alley

Headaches and hogwash going on in my ears

Dizzy dizzy infected of worry

It’s never my body, my friends, my brain, or my fault to be stranded in a

utopian wonderland

For three minutes I could sit still and stare at the wall and let it

(die)

This is my favorite mini-series, well-written, under-funded when it all dulls

A never-decaffeinated dream and I love a big bleeding heart song we can all

learn

Some days we almost feel alive

And most days we forget to live

For some reason, that’s all I can bring myself to say

You-know-what on everything