They don't bite their brother.
Cottonmouth.
Scales sliding over toes, smelling rotten rose
Water hose and purple prose and sage burning
World turning, big organic meatgrinder, composting bones
Two tones of being alone, two bones split out your shin
Living in this big plastic garbage pile
Been doing it a while, **** down that rage
Neutron star explodes and ends the golden age, not even a story on a page