Tell me about Abraham,
He took a lot of flack from the floor.
I know what you do is none of my care,
But how do you expect me to talk.

I made up for the game, I wish I’d cried,
And then I die…

What it is, is such an unfair game, It takes all but the pain,
I made it up in my head.
Bottles of prescription dance,
It’s air filled and the pattern is.
The bottle isn’t in my sights,
The drawer is filled with an ashtray clock.

I make up for it, Take me through the shit,
I’m already able, able to try, and compromise.
I want it to be fair, but we’re still sucking air, 
The levels are cold…

I’m old and I’m not yet there, 
The talk is so subtle.
I recognize every belief,
But how could you steal?

Written by Daniel Victor (2004)
Recorded by Ductape Halo from “Kill Room Singles”

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