Paul Pinto - Mini_001 lyrics

Line up the magazines mom's coming over in 12 hours the hamper's spilled over my chairs all my chairs all the milk has spoiled & the cabbage has run away from the crisper run away from my heart my hearse & my horse was lost in the good war was lost in the good war the good war... Deadlines... but my language is erratic & unnecessary (...unnecessary... ...it's sooooo cold...) my fingers aren't doing what they've been told to do since I was 5 years old with scabby knees curly hair & a sense of immortality no sense of purpose & a keenly overdeveloped sense of smell... to do... (Do it! Do it, fingers!) I've pinned the curtains to the wall pinned them tightly down to the wall pinned them tightly to the wall tightly to the wall to the wall the curtains are sky blue I have sky blue curtains pinned to the wall pinned tightly down. Forward my voices to the appropriate figure of authority. Because... the end is here it's up it's committed to 11 eager stereotypes: Self-awareness Vanity Charm Self-loathing Carelessness Cra**ness Calamity Can-of-soup-alphabetistics Senselessness Sovereignty & Overall behaving like a p**y! (p**y! p**y!) The sniper electric he hunts me even now he hunts me in my sleep in my breathy sleeps & whenever I dream... which is to say... never. Hmm... that's odd I seem to have misplaced my will to live I may have left it on my bed under my hoodie... or is it in the chair? 10 minutes go like 10 days when you're rambling or being rambled to (forget the f**ing sauce) Move like a turn more like a turn more like a live execution more like a live execution in my home town with the football field on a Friday night nothing to do nothing to compare (...to compare...) to compare the bitter cold to... so I sit (I'll stand, thank you.) I have a wee seat at the children's desk. At the children's school desk & rant & rave & recite irregular rhymes of Ravel & Rameau & Rupert Murdoch & other such poets & princes & gamble... my life savings on vegetation & equines. That is, static equines & fast vegetation... May I have a sandwich? May I have a soup? May I have a sandwich? May I have a soup? A spoon? A day off? A carton of unfiltered cigarettes & 4...? ... Forgetting my mother's coming I sink into my hard crumbly bed & masturbate & watch 9 hours of Twin Peaks (I forgot how much I loved MacGyver... Word!) The bus didn't stop for me just on & on & on avoiding eye contact making itself unavailable & unbelievable & sore & carelessly co*ky about leaving me in the cold with a pound-20 just jingling in my hand just jingling just jingling! (But anyway...) Tossing & turning into my filthy kitchen with the spoiled milk & the devastating appliances & twigs & contours & centipedes & millipedes & millionaires & debonairs & dirt devils & flirt & foul foul foul estates of the states & states & states of the states & more (...& more... ...& more!) & more & more I see myself as part of the no one part of the no one the no one the no one fond of my lack of pa**ion & piano-playing ability. I'm covered... in sand... like an animal... like an animal... an animal... cutting.