Meat Sunday

He sticks his eye out
Like cellophane
She brings her throat out
A bulging vein

all the things that they want
to their friends they will flaunt
buried between the lines
A single list

It shifts
It rips
It splts
It sticks

Assemble your lines
Bring out your dead
Flash your best cards
Power ahead

The battle has begun
This time nobody won
White knuckles black eyes
A loaded gun

It shifts
It rips
It spits
It sticks

The ties
Are broke
When lies
Are spoke