Can it live inside some old film canister?
Or can you give it lungs
So it can breathe on its own, own, own?
Calling you alone

Don't you let it die
Make a promise to yourself
At least you have to try
Even if no one understands it, plan it
Feel it in your heart

Is my severed voice now hanging
From the tree growing up over your grave?
Or are you choking on vomit
At the bottom of that cake?

Now the president's skull's like a bowl
I eat cereal out of
All of the holes
The material is all printed with flowers