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letra de tulpamancer - fistfights with wolves

we are not alone inside these ugly yellow walls
portraits of our past selves caught in marked up bathroom stalls
post apocalyptic visions spread like creeper vines
postulating bullets for the sake of bottom lines
there’s a shape i can’t see in the back of my mind
and it’s a strange thing waiting
she has grown forty heads
and they push till i bend into a darkness waiting
in the landscape of a memory
is the story were fed by the child who’s half dead
in this fiction is contrition
is it plastic we bled through the holes in our heads

speaking through a channel on an endless gramophone
voices of your past selves crackle through these ancient bones
patiently you p-ss the panicked people in the rain
masochistic weldings of a scar and i’m the same
fill my song with your words, it’s so strange and absurd
i’m not flattered, it’s depressing
letting friends in your bed shape your heart
think ahead to the poison they’re making
so hypnotic, cold and caustic
what you build in your head manifests as your thread
people creeping in the shadows
try to drink them away but i can’t and they stay

sell the shattered fragments of my memory for a gun
schizophrenic shadows shaping saviors on this run
tulpamancing talons drain the reason from their vein
taking tattered parchments from the book of our remains
spilling pictures of grey onto canvas and space
collaging memories, waiting
paint the panic we feel
into something that’s real
till its a fashion, aching
seeking focus on the borders of the places we hid
drawing masks on our skin
they are moving in a cycle
pushed and pulled in the tide
waves of motion collide

- fistfights with wolves

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