Ebola

All, all relaxed with fucking nails bit to the quick

Bit to the quick, bit to the quick

While golden was the silence

Like foam filling the mouth of the exempt

The burdened saw the damage

Absorbed with our legs lost to heated-white lies

We remain to pull its frame

From the ashen wreck of anxiety

Blown to conspicuous borrowed attacks

We've got the nerve to live so low like this

With nails bit to the quick

And teething blood so warm

The man who keeps

Sewing needles between his teeth

Prefabricates every spoken word

With no weapons to lay in front of me

Robbed of my skills in social weaponry, robbed

Impending was the omen

No choice but to sever dead skin

You reap what you sow

To degrees you'll never know

You'll never fucking know