I need my machines to shine and gleam, a sort of diamond sheen for higher beings.
I need to look like a Titan, Mars. I have like...nineteen scars. I learned to ice the gauze.
I need chugging riffs with chords. Dicks in whores. just. a. little. more. would be nice, of course.
I need another. And that. And this. To be smothered. Hot and bothered, lovers.
I need another. Haggard aesthetic, but pristine. Fucking her, grabbing her necklace.
I need air. To be clean. Healthy, and a little less mean. Wealthy, and above the mean.
I need muscle fibers. A couple fucking tigers. Soap and skin, acoustic plucking strings.
I need to do backflips. Because that's badass theatrics. And it shows athletic prowess.
I need more hours. Less cowardice. More Animal Collective. I need some perspective.
__________________
If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams
Where immobil steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back road stop
Could you find me?
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