about
Hypnos on fear of sleep and self.
lyrics
Superman should've been your son,
The fascist bullet from a phallic gun,
But he wasn't there for you,
I'm sorry about that.
I will die for nothing I love without purpose,
I know what sex is,
The crystalline torture,
The broken microwave dumped near twisted rotting trees.
Superman's gone home and,
He's trading all of his clothes,
And you don't know what he looks like now,
And you don't know how she sounds.
The violet's hit the ground,
The human's are abound,
The violet has hit the ground,
And you don't know how she sounds.
God will die like we die,
And God will claw Fae's sex,
And God will abandon you,
Because you abused her.
And when God leaves you it's her fault,
Think of the things that you said,
Think of the things you did,
Stewards don't do that.
Superman's gone home and,
He's trading all of his clothes,
And you don't know what he looks like now,
And you don't know how she sounds.
The violet's hit the ground,
The human's are abound,
The violet has hit the ground,
And you don't know how she sounds.
She trades laugh for autographs and cigarettes,
Validation on the streets she got molested,
The streets you left behind,
She couldn't.
And when God leaves you it's her fault,
Think of the things that you said,
Think of the things you did,
Stewards don't do that.
Superman's gone home and,
He's trading all of his clothes,
And you don't know what he looks like now,
And you don't know how she sounds.
The violet's hit the ground,
The human's are abound,
The violet has hit the ground,
And you don't know how she sounds
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