Think of Us Kissing

Where's my big like? I've been pouring all over this shtick every night And I'm calling out your theories of why Not to catastrophise But I've been lying so low, Mum, I can't see the light My god, these guys, vipers in the night Still amidst all the hissing I'm remembering kissing the angel with the incredible piercing While you're on brand names and acquisitions Feckless sex dreams with cowards' omissions The future is a factory And I foresee it hating me The brutalist industry I've seen Not my scene Wherе's my limelight? If I'm to nurse the fеver I carry inside I'll starve, I will not stifle my appetite It's might on high time I can barely make out the mountain no-one taught me to climb And frightened allies take swipes at my sides Now everyone's weighing in on the lady in waiting 'bout how long it's all taking, as she sits for the painting As soon as it dries it starts depreciating More useful derision from the youth politician The future is a factory And I foresee it hating me The brutalist industry I've seen It's not really It's really not my scene Really not my scene The future is a factory And I foresee it hating me The brutalist industry I've seen Can't they see It's not my scene