Black midi songs by lyrics

I dream of a woman with the teeth of a raven and the hands of a porcupine

She moves with a purpose, what a magnificent purpose

Pull out feathers, tear off cellophane

Our bullets were made for men like you, the impotent idiots god forgot

That was "8 weeks in may" by the Orange tree boys

The curtain is a patchwork, of imitation vermillion

Please stop all of this strange fantasy

Each day you wake and each night you sleep, I'll be there in your chest! Burning! Burning!

My girls are destined for hell, or so says our priest, but find me a christian who spends as much time on their knees

No gang affiliation no mob justice, murder!

Cracking, snapping little footsteps

Everyone loves ascending fourths

My chest feels awful tight, thank you for listening, good night, good night, good night!