I was looking at the fare in the window, and the sandwich board I’d likely fall over, and the Ghost of Mark E. Smith whispered…
*whispers*
..Analytics have got
My type worked out
Analytics on me
The poison render
I grope about
And when I go out
My mind splits
My eyes doth hurt
..
[we are the fall]
*goes back the the heavenly green room*
I was looking at the fare in the window, and the sandwich board I’d likely fall over, and the Ghost of Mark E. Smith whispered…
*whispers*
..Analytics have got
My type worked out
Analytics on me
The poison render
I grope about
And when I go out
My mind splits
My eyes doth hurt
..
[we are the fall]
*goes back the the heavenly green room*