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Squawks of Hate 04:15
Four teeth in the far corners of a hippo's mouth sustain the woolen echo rung from nerves flapped on wings perverse explained; Sparrows greet us with squawks of hate. One thousand lives lived everyday for ten thousand centuries straight. The powerless in death escape the setting tongues at westward pace. Hippos run til hippos stop! We see the desert in our eyes. Soon our tears could run dry. I will catch them drop by drop. Down in the groves with mud and fish live on your last wish: stoned me! High on the roof with jaws and clear water menopause: stoned me! Sparrows leave us with squawks of hate.
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