Angles Anonymous In Transit - Trap Them

Flatline connectors guide to this house, this home

For bread and dead water and a place to call their own

A billion bottles of the bristled ice and fireflies

To ride the times of wrinkled waste and crystalled eyes

And wanted advice of the god-soaked wine

While the weapons hit the family trees, the fatals got out of their cars

On early lifts

On blood-soaked scenes

And you scanned the globe for safety zones to hide your children while thunder

screamed and lightning struck the trophy wives and the father guns

I’ve slept in your burning beds, I’ve stood in your family rooms,

all stacked with priceless heirlooms of those worthless roots and skeleton

lines

And together with your doppelgangers, we got on our feet and I crept in back of

each and every one with piano wire in my shitty hands

One by one

On and on

The others lost their throats

The rest just lost their minds

We don’t know where we are, we know it flows in the protest hours

And on and on runs the god-soaked wine