Purple Fist Flower

Each twisting visage is dressed in regal green and red and gold

I often can't help but think what they mention of me

My muse is arthritic and her wings are clipped, and this solstice is coming to a close

So if you're gonna hurt me I better bruise

It's all about imagery you say when Gerrard says he wants to fuck TJ

Not to be the one to jump but I've always found it hard to speak with sinners

Instead I'll run to the circus where the colours are painted fast

So throw your last lucky pound into that fountain

I found Haim through a friend from America who wont say he needs me

But we all know how he crashes hard and falls flat

There's a milk snake on the red eye now

And your two two-faced solid gold statues begin to turn, exposing sinew and crust, on hangs with a gang, the other in tragic dismay

But I can barley stand that violent hue, that reflective and impending feeling that sometime soon one must stop and give way to those ceaseless charming drums, at the hands of the walkers we know best

A clenched fist, held down, through skull, gripping flesh