Luyện nghe bài hát The Bible And The Breathalyzer

Among the dwelling of the new found home, in the furthest cramped corner sat the shell of a goat head strangled in copper wire, scraped of it's insides, unwashed behind the ears, fueling the crooked names spoken by leeches.
To a thinning cowlick's fat his crippled limp, dragging along the hump of the floor. Sobbing from the smacking mouth of the demagogue wells, making wisecracks, from the corners with their pink flinches, second glancing their every move.
It ate pickled nose cartilage that fell from the ceilings, a porkskin drizzle unnerving the humans, while it read aloud from favorite books, in glossylalia slang and hierospecks truths, following a slow and patient wait, a mocking their hair as it was glued to their upper lip combover.
Under the wall, the ships smeared by faithfully the magnum fanatics and their bottles of scalp soup.
They cooked up a tardis smudge on their eyes, a lunar antidote that powdered underneath the oncoming pestilence of their fingers.
It wrote them a seance, penetrated their every desire.
It off the central headpiece to the collective.
It wrote them a message in the of the knife, with the extension of Baphomet* transfusion.
Glued to the animals, perversions of their former selves, patiently biting their looking for a clue.
As soon as it failed to appear, the faithful fell the spell of public execution.
It had been an filled with useless ritual, and all for nothing, promising salvation, but only flags came swarming around for a better taste.
What was left were the scraps, dressed in animal skin, defiled holding their breath, fatherless culprits blaming their kin, waiting for an answer.
They thought a day would come, or a might choke in midair squeal, some sort of indication.
Only it was the hands of the followers that had left their markings in packed dunes filled with the decapitated remains, found sealed in sand.
It only stained the for a brief moment, then came disgust.
Realizing was nothing to it, people began collapsing in collective states of drought.
vents heating in the chest, cluttering the graph, a bladder full of remains.
Nothing became of them because nothing was the reason, an apathetic display dripping vats of obesity.
The feud had been sucking teeth for some time now, but the only baggage that paraded about was the curtain epidermis in an inebriated suit.
The fit came suffocating, the boa-constricted paleness, frostbitten, and shovel-faced.
It came before them in utter confidence, flares of pink owls in the nest of eyelids blinking out chemical obscurities to the blind.
It into a hemmorrhaged contraption that impopulated the disenchanted, one by one.
All the were converted into quarantine facilities, inside them grew bacterial stubble compacted by larvae, contracting and teething.
A newborn litter degradively sufficient, running from the horse collarbone, amongst the murmuring femurs in fractures.
"Are you the polaroid shot you you were?", it said with a coy smirk.
With the position now vacant, it waltzed right in and itself at home.
Seduced by the empty nominations at the altar of broken boxes, closer to that nothingness that everyone seemed to embrace.
As it pissed all them, the sigh of relief steamed off the soaking depressants, an impending sleep was on it's way.