Genur.art

Neon bulbs are the cosmetics of swine, Everybody looks quite dazzling, trussed up in their formal attire, You'd make a great secret if I could keep you, but we all spill our guts, We're locked and loaded. Drip fed and bloated, Our trigger fingers snagged in the mouse trap of the moment, Turn the lights off on us, like a moth left in the cold, In the dark, begging for more, When the urgency strikes you, you'd better not lose your nerve, It's the rush that the cockroaches get at the end of the world, It's alright, There's a pail by the bed if you need one but you're doing just fine, When in Rome we shall do as the Romans, when in Hell we do shots at the bar