The Deadfly Ensemble - Millions of Flies текст песни

One
They crept on hinged legs and suction cup toe-touch, leaving like dew drops
their itch and infection. Even Anopheles hastens for distance, losing an arm
outstretched, keeping her burden.
They were a sound that grew quiet and then found looking-glass ladies and
children with scabies. We are the monsters who smile after crib-death.
We are the grace for the clinically dead.
Chorus
We love the hiding guns, we hate the iron lung. We go fast on black ice,
we are a million flies. We love the hiding guns, we hate the iron lung.
We go fast on black ice, we are a million flies.
Two
Their eyes were compound, imagine their seething… … Hands like a scavengers;
instantly curious. Even Hippocrates humored finality, he heard the fly-sound
and then learned antithesis. Dead in the parlor with dust like a membrane,
fly friends are dreaming of wings and antennae. And when the family gathers to
stare, lights are turned low for the pink-painted cheekbones…