Appears On This Playlist
No playlists were found with this track.
Custom Track ID
William Robert Brush
There's a blue cylinder of smoke that rising
From the bottom of my sleep and now colliding
With the angels in my dreams, shredding their wings
I scream to wake up now
But the smoke grabs me like a 'jacker's hand
Gun in the other making demands
'Turn to look at me'
I see the nothingness of his face
Silent and violent, I never thought you'd come around here
You pushed into my face the cracks of a broken plate,
Now get the fuck outta here