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letra de the rust that i feed - acid drinkers

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like apollinaire – with soft words,
i though, what i overcarres you…
but i’ve wrapped around my hand
barbed wire – bl–dy, long…
and even so i took my boots off
i was smelling of my thoughts
thoughts crooked like a any d-ck
thoughts like rainy, heavy clouds…

and benedict’s strong fist
hanging over sleepy head
i was looking in his eyes
can he hear your swan-song?
let the night carry your singing
up your ears! it is worth!
let amadeus turns in his grave
let him curse – it’s not his note…

the rust that i feed, that i grow
resistant for any words
the rust that i feed, that i grow
resistant for any words

the man who carried the christ
he’s got a knife in his hand
when he will mature – he’ll strike
you know, i know – i deserve
the night carry your song
up your ears – it is worth!
julius turns in his grave
let him curse – that’s not his words…

the rust that i feed, that i grow
resistant for any words
the rust that i feed, that i grow
resistant for any words

the rust that i feed, that i grow
resistant for any words
the rust that i feed, that i grow
resistant for any words…

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