Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
name your price
From "Art Star".
Cherish a talking head with a look of a tormented prophet learned from a book, it's lost in world and so obsessed with keeping off from what could be the best. Now look at that face of a model, it's a pointless fraud. Bitches rave to shake their cares away, we laugh 'em off.
To learn the boundaries lay somewhere else than possibilities, to learn the culture, I acknowledge everything. In the field of heavy preferences, come tell me what the difference is between a pose and genuine belief in anything. Find the nest—maintain your health—get some rest—save yourself, stay inside, the mob looks fishy, boy, it's all just finishes and nothing less than dressed to spit the doctrines you're all padded with, anxiety it's scented with recesses as he sentences your life and yet he spends his time on a random bin, mistaking her for a well to toss coins in, the church/Berghain, twitches on a medicine to get to the god, or back to when he was a freelancer and lit up to hit the dream and now he dreams of being hit with fucking miracle, oh please. Long live who's told to die a martyr, but hold on, there's no credit on a corner and his motive's as dim as it gets when it comes to apparel, rent, family, kids.
Look at that face—of a model.
Praise be the talking head with a look of a tormented prophet learned from a book 'cause it's always right and it's both the streets and palaces. Our master, feed them ears who came to hear what's next, can you guide us through the mall?