My Cause Is Noble And Just lyrics

makes game of choice sits in cold piss with sticky hands watching morning crawl the bottom blue gases and message tickle written on his back protests azeida says or says or natalie or something oh if these cold feet could only the warbling coo of unseen pigeons smell of creeks and south street steakhouse either neithers surround me who can say how any more? and how can say why? it's beginning to get to be a bit too late to name this