As black pants make cat hairs appear, So I have in the past made. Everyone without and still but somehow. Everyone's without but still somehow. This medium is longing gone, Teach me cheating, And coat your slow choking, If it fits or if it's me, Soft blood in water, And chuckle turns cough, Hide you inside me, Talk me into you, If it fits or if it's me, What could sure be me. Everyone without and still but somehow. Everyone's without but still somehow. Then the war came and we all found work. Who'd have known in farming communities in central Illionois as early as the mid 1950s, Catholic priests already invented altar boys. Cocky and sweet cheeked 13 year old kids. It's uneven and quiet or even unsaid, Connections must be something mmmmmm, It's uneven and quiet or even unsaid, Connections must be something mmmmmm...