Vlayman: “Waste”

c. Vlayman ’15

Can’t seem to feel anything below the waist
Nothin’ seems real, and mebbe that’s my fate
To be not real, to have no smell or taste
Such a waste, such a waste

Pharoahs come along, my son, they rule and defile
Queens and priests just carry on, as befits their style
Golden headress brocaded silk crying in the meanwhile
Crying in the meanwhile

Fairy tales may not be every thing you believe
They’re told to childern, my son, and others we seek to deceive
That happiness can be found, if you’d just be free
Come with me, come with me

Love is what you make when, you run from the abyss
The time you take to perfect yer sins, it’s nothing more than this
And if you have the chance, my son, make it yer third wish
Look through her kiss, look through her kiss

Drums: nettage
RthmGtrs: Paul(FulltoneDist+-SwellFlanger-ShrtTimer)-ProJr-E609-ISA1
Bass: HnrJazz-Brick-dbx160XT
Vox: M500-VC1Q
LdGtr: G&Lf100(bigMuffW)-ProJrM-Superlix-ISA1_MXL860-UA710_MS
Cowbell: Superlux-ISA1_ProJrMXL860-UA710>MS
vlayman; THD; blog; TFP


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