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letra de armwrestling atlas - mathas

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[verse 1]
we’ve watched our kittens
build their coffins
filled with love lost lockets
outta fresh paned pine
we’ve watched them for hours at a time
and that same horrid little pocket
manage all the fresh rabbit
in a west gold mine
same little sordid swell
and the march of all the penguin suits
reroute with every tone
ringing in song
without question
just singing along
repositioned the meek efficiency
the beacon calling all the
seagulls home
to a few chips
scattered with the pine cones
to a bit of cuttle
scuttled up the bank side
with the pushing sands of clan hens
abandoned by their brothers
who approximated fluctuating shame
and pluck the scabs up off their hate
making races congregate
in this hemisphere
the fuss is plus and tenfold
on the rigours of the atmosphere
the mass appeal
elapse to a premonition of days
where these waves won’t raise
and the ants all single file
back to the mound
podiums of meerkats
that chinwag and praise
they’ll be gandering the geese
in bikini clad fleets
in forty-two degrees
on cottesloe beach
gravel streets lead the flock
flapping on the hot coals
macking on each other
or whoever’s in reach
where the vultures looking for a culture
hustle in the food court
peac-cking
l!cking lioness paws
or picking off the ticks
even, or giving raw meat
caught to their pick of the litter
made lord
where the rats dive
their whole little life in a skip bin
picking at the scr-ps
from the tupperware coast kin
plush toy lifestyle
no qualms at all
forever livin’ neverland
out to the last call
to the last call
to the last call
to the last call
[verse 2]
where the roaches live either or
no matter whether we bake or starve
fish will still swim well past
all two legged man land laws
all collar cuffed suck–rs- narks
preen up to the h-lla high white line
sucked up through rolled up note
‘til the polars sell cut snow
for the sake of their own survival
leach poison to aqua vital
‘til a life form wiped off quick
sick to death of that arrogant viral
all animals still in tune with
magnets in a barbwire bull pit
all lords at the pulpit line-up
for the name and shame when the globe go
kicked ‘round like a cat with a wool ball
be all and end all, bigger than the finds
of all the great brains of our time in a line
who died in their prime with the prize of a sad mind
or a virus or a weakness in their bloodline
no medal in their lifetime
make plastic, build steel
fart carbon, lawn hills
it will still be held up
may likely bend that trust though
you’re fauna whether you like that
or you got charms on a bracelet
you are still somewhat herded
your food source did choose you
those hands aren’t human form
no matter how well they’re drawn
[chorus]
wrestle all you want
wrestle all you want
wrestle all you want
wrestle all you want
wrestle all you want
wrestle all you want
wrestle all you want
wrestle all you want

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