Football Team from Leftover Monsterface by The Fatty Acids

In post-coital whispers and drunken, honest slurs I may have mentioned it. But let's be crystal clear. A zealot-blooded vision brought me here and left me like I beat it up.

And even statements of profundity were shunned.

Skinny and dressed like you were behind glass. Walking mannequin, I'll never understand how you took my mother's son.

Something's turning years to blurs and living creatures into furs, Lord.

Something's living in the Earth. Been reaching for me since my birth, Lord.

You had an air of confidence reserved for people without a thing hidden beneath their floorboards.

I smell it on you.
I smell it on me too.
Each word is a blood test.
Each sentence a prequel for something to come.
Can I get adjusted?
I had what it took, but I must have lost it.
A 100 pound settlement suitcase.
But look what I found, with each night a new face.

And I learned not to wear my thoughts like clothing, because mostly I'm wrong upon further investigating.

The look in your eyes.
Your cheeks hang like sandbags.
Your temper: a child's.
I think about running.
I laid on my back while you got abducted.
The city ain't safe for a football team, much less a 100 pound stumbling suitcase.
So head down the sidewalk and I'll try to keep pace.

• Rock
• indie
• pop
• psychedelic
• quirk
• scramble pop
• Milwaukee