Crinkling anhydrous
I contort to shapes described by Pythagorus.
My shell collapses
Livings a burden heavy to break the camels back
Words for me are needles in needle stacks
You can't get out with out cutting your throat

Every time you leave I'm wringing my hands in my car
Every time I see men I reach towards the bar
For another beer

I'm sitting in my own belly full of bile and I need to ***** out these tears
And I need to cleanse my spirit
And I need to shine my gears

Cause I am rusting shut. My mouths left in the forest and the tin mans oilcan hands cut

Back in my truck I tuck and hide the thoughts yet want a concrete wall to spill my mind upon
And make a canvas out of the windshield of glass covered in grey mass

The endings more poetic then a **** with a crown extending.