conglomerate

we forget about the money.

I’d rather have you turned on by a picture of me

and jump my bones in response

instead of decay in a desk chair.

it’s the sentiment that’s sweet

but the self that is dissolved in the sacrifice.

but what else do we have tongues for?

every day it’s a bridge, sugar.

whether word or limb.

whether word or limb,

every day it's a bridge, sugar.

but what else do we have tongues for?

but the self that is dissolved in the sacrifice -

it's the sentiment that's sweet,

instead of decay in a desk chair.

and jump my bones in response!

I'd rather have you turned on by a picture of me.

we forget about the money.