Angles Anonymous In Transit

Flatline connectors guide to this house, this home
 For bread and dead water and a place to call their own
 A billion bottles of the bristled ice and fireflies
 To ride the times of wrinkled waste and crystalled eyes
 And wanted advice of the god-soaked wine
 While the weapons hit the family trees, the fatals got out of their cars
 On early lifts
 On blood-soaked scenes
 And you scanned the globe for safety zones to hide your children while thunder screamed and lightning struck the trophy wives and the father guns
 I've slept in your burning beds, I've stood in your family rooms, all stacked with priceless heirlooms of those worthless roots and skeleton lines
 And together with your doppelgangers, we got on our feet and I crept in back of each and every one with piano wire in my shitty hands
 One by one
 On and on
 The others lost their throats
 The rest just lost their minds
 We don't know where we are, we know it flows in the protest hours
 And on and on runs the god-soaked wine