Clay Lyrics

You're obstinate,
contrarian,
electrical-storm proletarian

and the fire that's keeping me warm
is burning to cinders the secrets rescinding the war.

Nefarious,
sarcastically fucking gregarious,
and I'm frayed, I'm tired, I'm flayed, I've tried and I've failed,
so I'm walking away.


Shut up.
There's no end on this page
for my succubus-cum-necrophage.
Every word trephinates
the skull you emptied of joy
and tried to replace

with your void,
your saccharine and frivolous noise.
You're a mannequin modeled off harridans
hung for their poise,
and their ploys.

One if by land,
two if by sea,
three if the monarch's here
and she's bending the knee.

Bastards,
yeah I know there were.
Bastards;
your mind a frog put to boil.
As it turns out
I'm a glutton.
I've let bitches
push my buttons.

But none of them like you.
None of them like you.

(you're just a)
Shut up.
Caustic happenstance;
down the drip feed I'm fed.

Every word you intone
tears my skin from my flesh,
and my flesh from my bones.

My bones.

There's a reason you're dying alone;
the intent of your sentences
grind together like stones.

Bastards,
yeah I know you were.
Bastard,
your mind; the graveyard of toil.
As it turns out
I'm a glutton.
I've let bastards
push my buttons.
But none of them like you.

None of them like you.

Bastards,
I don't care there were.
Bastards,
your mind; a stamp on my world.
And without you
I am empty.
Everyone since
gave me plenty
but none of them are you.

None of them are you.

Bastards,
we can't even struggle through.
Bastards,
all the construct can do is construe.
All my insides, made of clay.
There's no reason to go or to stay.
There's
no one left like you.

No one left like you.