[Zach Quinn:] Exhume the dead decathlon We’re running races on all fours I am a snowflake to satiate the yearning To wet the tongues of thirsty ne’er-do-wells Appease the peasant In the quarters of the puppeteers A child that can’t wipe its own ass But knows enough to feel ashamed I’m stretched as thin as fishing line In a vessel stuck in neutral on an infinite decline
Yeah, oh what a privilege to remain submerged Compassion’s only real when it hurts
Drag your fingers between my lips, please teach me how Live in an unearned home in my heart My love undone, I am the one celestial cockroach
Ask and receive Hear and discard Gather your toys Play in the yard
Stray from our sight and immediately the memory’s gone, discover what we do is secret
Frail, the connection, disciple and messiah The strings that lift my fingers to the sky Unclear discernment Am I God or another stock marionette Built to believe he is unique?
Stray from our sight and immediately the memory’s gone, discover what we do is secret