Unknown Mortal Orchestra chronos feasts on his children

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Listen to the crunching
Music of the crashing mopeds all around her
Painted with the burning
Powders of exotic funerals that surround her
Chronos feasts on his children
Like turning mango flesh
Will the trouble cease
When she pays off the police?
Infection filled my head
Like springtime flower beds and evaporating trash
Pressure in the skull
Like leaking timber, hold me
Dreams so wonderful
Chronos feasts on his children
Like turning mango flesh
Will the trouble cease
When she pays the pigs off?

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