Nostalghia
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Homeostasis

Nostalghia


A tiny moth
Wrapped in lungs
Got my armor
And I got my gun
I told you not to call me hun

She floats so soft
Inside his web
My spider lover
His useless head
I told you not to touch my bed

I'm changing, I'm spinning
Uh, morphogenic
I'm webbing I'm morphing
Uh, morphogenic
I'm hungry, I'm thirsty
Uh, morphogenic
I'm tired, I'm wasting
Uh, morphogenic

I stumble from
This empty room
You blow my brains
I'll blow my cool
You know I can't play by the rules

I feel so cold
The sweetest stare
My wool filled eyes
Your hollow care
A tiny game of truth or dare.

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