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