Glasa

There is not enough medicine for stomach pain
I swallow everything down
There is not enough medicine for stomach pain
I spit. Help is now denied
And the last lights are dancing
Tired feet, tender hearts
Take this moment, it is more than pleasant
Roaring applause for the dying beast
Throwing up! Throwing up
Laughing and sweating blood. Sweating blood
Ohhh
What is left of an honest face?
When it does see the thing we can’t take our eyes of
It’s not our purpose