Soft Speaker Pagan Pastimes, For a Handsome Price 3, 14, 13

For a handsome price I stood around on broken glass The hand of fate smacking me across the face A tourniquet for your bloody stump Keenly aware, the driver had just passed our house I bit my tongue and laughed I sold my eyes for a hansome price A walking dream A burlap bag for a cash machine The sphere of life is broken down tonight Lush green forest in my mind I pressed my hand into your face Your tepid faith was pathetic anyway But we can still be friends Your phony charm, I m cracking up Race to see