Thing A Tale Of Praise I lived for a living That one day I died for a tale IN THE NAME OF Jاذkowiak Iron sewers Blackened by rust Where old Government lines Balance on the trunks The railway tracks Retracted by the beam As soon as you arrive The cleanup SSD is torn at the barriaton Opportunities are burning Illuminating Prostitutes From Cori-Langey In lame-ish massages Red Latex Orders to warriors Red latex Centerpieces Mirrored in Russian Fussian Strike There is movement Grab the escaped Locked Dead The code of the barbarian Will surround the barrier Murmuring to the fire Deeply Come and see It's all right The salt with their little fingers You Turkish hippie Listen to your radio Who's got pause? The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground The nail is on the ground What do I do here, with my hands stained with blood? What do I do here, with my hands stained with blood?