mik's reaction - the wax hand lyrics
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the cloud+like form of a baby fool
drifting past, to know no rule
the wax hand sits, inverted and still
minus it’s wrist, the owner to k!ll
pillows and sheets in disarray
your form was golden, now turned to clay
an overflowing bin calls for no test
another side of the room reflects the rest
the curtains hang short, one tied with bow
the plant is dying for they hang too low
posters hang too, 4 turned to 8
the words of love hit me too late
the culmination is a multi+pack
pencils and pens from out of the sack
needless and thoughtless, writing on still
the wax hand moves and me it k!lls
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