Lyrics

His head is shaved His tongue flicks on his lips From the purse in his hand comes An oft-welcomed gift which In hindsight Had I been wise Would not have been received so willingly Oh, these birds never stop They just keep flapping A thousand putrid wings Infinitely What if my skin sloughs off? What if my tongue curls up? What will the vangaurd think of me And my pedigree? Will they ever climb down?