The Wind Blows Through Their Skulls - Beastmilk

Short circuit signals

Crawl the pavements of my mind

Intermittent voices call

Of the atomic kind.

.

I can’t sleep through dead dreams

As blood buildings boil

Contaminated flesh machines

Black clouds from the furnace coil

The wind blows through their skulls

As the night begins to shine

With tongues that whip the tombs

The air will set their bones on fire

Radiation hunger

Cold war, a secret sign

My ghost whispers to my ghost

Am I nuclear genocide?

I can’t sleep through dead dreams

As blood buildings boil

Contaminated flesh machines

Black clouds from the furnace coil

The wind blows through their skulls

As the night begins to shine

With tongues that whip the tombs

The air will set their bones on fire

Genocide.

.

Am I nuclear genocide?