Mountain City yellows they're not on the grounds they're in the wall

This loneliness is so distracting I'm barely missing you at all



Will I survive the Easter in this sloughy womb of noxious isolation? 

No I can feel the sabers now in my illusionary casket



Now your charming little virus is getting all your attention

As I drag my chair up to the window to absorb some solar lashings



It's your saint's name day tomorrow but last year's paper wasps they are not living anymore



Why should I be scorned like some catalyst for famines when it's me who's been exiled in apartments?

Oh must I always be chaos arpeggiating?



Mountain City yellows I see them glitching through the floor

The minotaur of self abuse can't pick himself up anymore



Your last violent freak out was a eulogy to us

I was truly touched that you still cared enough to throw psychotic fits



And now I'm sparring with the no one, the void, the vacuum of conscience

As I mine the rust of my celebrity with snarls and mock laughter



I have the sense that you're wanting me to chase you

But what's the point? we can't be together without starting a row