Valérianne At Les Fines Herbes

Angry Man

Valérianne At Les Fines Herbes


They are just riddles, peices of information
Stuck together, like the seam
Of a dress, dressed to kill, all dressed up
Like a salad
Like a nun, with a habit, wrenching her fingers
As she wonders why she's there

Oil leaking through the pipelines, into my body
I reach out, to grab a thread, of revolt
Where can I put it?
We only see them as they
And that is what they hide behind

When they are seen as one, they command respect
With their big black cars
And their big black ties and their big black ties
And their big black ties

Hex hex hex exxon transcanada highway of hell
And one day I will follow suit as I fly away on my reindeer
I will sink their private islands and I will blow their houses down

I have slept with the enemy, and I have seen his soul
It was black and it was tarnished and he was angry
He is an angry man

Maybe someday I'll get used to it, maybe some day
Don't let me get used to it

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