Perfectionists have sticks up their collective ass.
I don't know. Fuck. Stop asking me.
The Eel-Tiger
Ear drops leak from your own soaked ears, I don't understand it much.
Time stands over your rotting body, peeling designs in orange rinds.
Losing it, O yes, stop this terror!
Find me openings, way under the night you drowned.
Bengal drops accumulate from stars' own spheres; ears' drums don't work, it seems.
Here stands courage your late body cleverly designs in orange light
Aim it high, yes, find this space.
Show me the way over the time you lost.
Just tracking some music tracks, oh boy.
You want a hint?
The second verse is one.
The Eel-Tiger
Ear drops leak from your own soaked ears, I don't understand it much.
Time stands over your rotting body, peeling designs in orange rinds.
Losing it, O yes, stop this terror!
Find me openings, way under the night you drowned.
Bengal drops accumulate from stars' own spheres; ears' drums don't work, it seems.
Here stands courage your late body cleverly designs in orange light
Aim it high, yes, find this space.
Show me the way over the time you lost.
Just tracking some music tracks, oh boy.
You want a hint?
The second verse is one.