Bobby Bland

Meat without speech Locked in a toolshed Meat without a name Rent by the light of candle Meat without will Meat without a voice And wobbling in darkness Is a dance misery preordained A mother and father do not have to be a biological disaster They could be kindred spirits and weirdly moving Meat without sense Meat without a mind Meat that takes Burned by the whims of a Grendle Confront the frictioned feather Of obsessive obliteration A brother and sistеr do not have to be a biological disaster Thеy could be kindred spirits and weirdly moving Threatened by someone who is already threatened Standing up to them all like a single polka dot