Trying to count the flies in my sink
They belong somewhere else
For years I have tried to escape them
But I only lead them to my home
Last night I swear they developed human tongues
I tried to shut them out, ending up fucked up drunk
Passing out into dreams of new friends, smiles and sex
Only to wake up dead-scared with cum in the bed
Existence reduced to these four walls:
The cub of a captured fox
In boiling July I would love to stroll the street
But I am to fucking scared of who I might meet
So I stay indoors until my lungs dry up sore
And there is puke on the floor
Umeå Grindcore
From the inside bending keys to my door
Umeå grindcore, Umeå grindcore
Staying at home until there is puke on the floor
Umeå Grindcore, Umeå Grindcore
On scrunching surfaces that makes a putrid skin on the ground
I lay inutile
A cycle of nausea, disgust and a crippling shame
Make years seem futile
Darkness by noon
Trees are hanging their heads
Begging for death
But this city won’t let them
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