Moth Kids

Well there's something beautiful here
So what you leaning on that which brings us filth and warmth
Well there's someone listening to you
Out there with the crumbs of somebody's bloodied kids

Sometimes mitts are ripped
Huddled with the fits
I guess it all depends
Sometimes you let up
From messengers of moths

That which saturates
Enough for bloodied hands
We'll walk along with stubs
And cover all we can

Well I felt it all at once
And in somе insatiable luck, and lost it, and there it was
Wеll you blink with dampened eyes
And with beauty, its too late to do a damn thing
Sometimes listen in

Eating teeth of man
You do it and then you're in
Too late to count the words
From bird to ant to fern

Eating teeth of man
You do it and then you're in
Too late to count the words
From bird to ant to fern