Letra de ' Chicken ' de Cultfever

Let me the stock and the chicken
Put them right onto the kitchen counter
Leave them there for me for when I come home
Your episodic panic finished when a minstrel made a visit
Just to smother all the principles you're holding so close

You grew so mighty old, so mighty mean
Perhaps your tiny favors will lend to a mending
And I'll forgive for everything
A simple telegram would do to bring some gleaning
To the meaning of your bricolage
You've gathered out in the drive, staring at the car in park
Have you grown fond enough?

That awful parable, that hunted need
Collapse my tiny office, take what you want
And I won't eat for anything
But uh, don't you think it would be harder now
To clamp down on our racing hearts, throw them out?
Give us something, keep the bleeding down
Just give us something for the brining

But darling you could be in high society
It's not a matter of opinion, oh no, it's a matter to be
And I could say or stress or think what I want
Darling, I don't make a difference, oh no, it's not a matter of me

Why don't we reinforce old habits
Watch the ceiling for the attic
Keeping idle, scanning static
And impress all we know?
But if you're feeling that you'd rather
Teach a lesson, tease a pattern
That I'm grown and I can't even
Make a dish on my own

You're awful reticent for being clean
I'll throw my moods until they break down the door
Because I won't pretend for anything

But uh, don't you think it would be harder now
To clamp down on our racing hearts, throw them out?
Give us something, keep the bleeding down
Just give us something for the brining in our mouths
In our mouths
In our mouths
In our mouths...

It was stemming from this place that we knew
And we were strumming early habits on a saw
And we were killing all our time clipping leaflets
So needlessly while we grieve all our misses on our sleeves

And uh, don't you think it would be harder now
To clamp down on our racing hearts, throw them out?
Give us something to keep the bleeding down
Just give us something for the brining in our mouths
In our mouths
In our mouths
In our mouths...