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Everyone Is Guilty

by Crowhurst

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1.
Death Rattle 13:32
2.
3.
The Cell 13:32
4.
5.
I smell a rat. The vermin run wild on these streets. I hear them scratching and clawing at the doors. It's getting cold and they're ready to chew through the wires Chipped brown fangs fling foam drip down to it's hairy talons Sit in your house and eat your food and gnaw through the tin Of the top of your last beer sitting in an icebox gone warm When it gets hot they all come out. The pigs get hot and the sick spew their sick Leaving a trail of blood that lingers like the stink Of piss clinging to the cracks in the concrete of the subway station. Two junkies fuck in tandem with the gnawing of two rats on a third who got too close to the tracks in an alley behind the church. Between the caked on grime in the cracks of the pock marked Track marked skin suit that covered the ass bones on one Scrawled out in ink read "Live Like There's No Tomorrow" The train pulls up and three men in suits laugh and flick cigarettes That get carried up into the gutters where the junkies sleep. There is no way out. The jobs are all dried up and there's an eviction notice on my door. I've got seven dollars in cash and nothing to show for my miserable life. Everything goes dark. The glistening slick sweat from the asphalt quits winking And you sink into your shoes a little bit more and the stink of the city It rustles between the hairs that cling to your nostrils like widows In the arson of your current mental state When you open your eyes it's all there Another night of sucking down a bottle with your pets and a television that works as a mirror Order me up another prescription of whatever they'll fill. The drugs that cure your sick make you sick Take a deep breath and regret Nothing in the world can shut it off. Everyone is guilty. Put it to your lips. The junkies laugh and stab the rat and share a dinner for two. Five bucks buys a gallon of gas and a lighter. The flames lick through the floorboards up to the roof. The smoke drinks the fog and the pinkies squeak. I smell a rat.

about

I smell a rat.
The vermin run wild in the streets.
I hear them scratching and clawing at the doors.
It's getting cold and they're ready to chew through the wires
Chipped brown fangs fling foam drip down to it's hairy talons
Sit in your house and eat your food and gnaw through the tin
Of the top of your last beer sitting in an icebox gone warm
When it gets hot they all come out.
The pigs get hot and the sick spew their sick
Leaving a trail of blood that lingers like the stink
Of piss clinging to the cracks in the concrete of the subway station.
Two junkies fuck in tandem with the gnawing of two rats on a third who got too close to the tracks in an alley behind the church.
Between the caked on grime in the cracks of the pock marked
Track marked skin suit that covered the ass bones on one
Read a tattoo that said There Is No Tomorrow.
The train pulls up and three men in suits laugh and flick cigarettes
That get carried up into the gutters where the junkies sleep.
There is no way out.
The jobs are all dried up and there's an eviction notice on my door.
I've got seven dollars in cash and nothing to show for my miserable life.
Everything goes dark.
The glistening slick sweat from the asphalt quits winking
And you sink into your shoes a little bit more and the stink of the city
It rustles between the hairs that cling to your nostrils like widows
In the arson of your current mental state
When you open your eyes it's all there
Another night of sucking down a bottle with your pets and a television that works as a mirror
Order me up another prescription of whatever they'll fill.
The drugs that cure your sick make you sick
Take a deep breath and regret
Nothing in the world can shut it off.
Everyone is guilty.
Put it to your lips.
The junkies laugh and stab the rat and share a dinner for two.
Five bucks buys a gallon of gas and a lighter.
The flames lick through the floorboards up to the roof.
The smoke drinks the fog and the pinkies squeak.
I smell a rat.

credits

released June 24, 2013

jay gambit - guitar, electronics, spoken word

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Crowhurst Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

crowhurst is a musical project of jay gambit, often with collaborators.

as of 2020 this page is operated predominantly by prophecy productions.

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