all autistic artists are lining up with songs they can’t sing. they can’t sing enough. their painting pictures of all the pictures they took. your swimming smile is my sinking look. when freshly shaved, their behavior is best. at worst, they’re bearded with a fist for a chest. no one really bathes right anymore. those thirty second showers never get into your pores. if you go to work dirty, you’re bound to do some dirty work. all subversive suburbanites have set their sights on the city. they’ll be spit out by sunrise. there’s already too much to swallow. you’re form is too easy to follow. we’ve got tools for every trade, but only shovels come in handy at the shit parade. our pitched fits, the missed hits by misfits. just push play and wait through the tape hiss. you’ll hear something soon enough. we can’t sing enough. hey, if you’ve got a thumb i guess you’ll want a gun. please be careful of your feet.
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