Evil S I yes to find a shore, a beach that doesn't quiver anymore, where we can crush some plants to paint my walls and I won't try to fight in the weekend wars. Was I? I was to lazy to bathe or paint or write or try to make a change. Now I can shoot a gun to kill my lunch and I don't have to love or think too much. Instant battle plans written on the sidewalk, mental mystics in a twisted metal car, tried to amplify the sound of light and love. Christ is cursed of faders and maders, might even take a knife to split a hair or even scare the children off my lawn. Giving us time to make the makeshift bombs, every mess invested was a score. We couldn't use computers anymore, it's difficult to win unless you're bored and you might have to plan for the weekend wars. Try to break my heart I'll drive to Arizona. It might take 100 years to grow an arm, I'll sit and listen to the sound of sand and cold, twisted diamond heart, I'm the weekend warrior. My predictions are the only things I have, I can amplify the sound and light and love. I'm a curse and i'm a sound, when I open up my mouth, there's a reason I don't win, I don't know how to begin.
