When we met in the kitchen it was like kissing a statue Then I knew that I could be a [?] Although the dream was sad it was nice to see you again In a way before we were close enough to be enemies, my friend Murdered like a prop Murdered like a prop again It is so circuitous and there is no literal terminal station I know that he exists because I saw the Christmas gong that he gave you Hung adult burnt white from youthful Internecine larks I pull the birds from your fur coat So happy I could die You knowing that it's just a game takes all of the fun away Oh, the camel in blow Did you go without saying goodbye? Murdered like a prop Murdered like a prop again The tyranny of no ideas while [?] Grass-eyed miscarriage and the stench of [?] queens in February of...