(Note: These are not the lyrics of the recorded version, but of an
ealier version the band once performed live.)
(M. Doughty)
A murder of lawyers in overcoats.
A murder of lawyers in overcoats.
A murder of lawyers in overcoats, shoulders up, heads slung low,
looking like a swarm of M's swarming the crosswalk. Looking up at a
window on the forty-fourth floor. Blueeyed Jew Mystic from a rhythm
section, his hands cupped around the dignified hijiki of human speech.
Muslim baritones idle with their hands down.
And the gat that fattens your jacket pocket
Plugs slugs in vain
Through the body of the immaterial witness.
And that which is Ugly and feeds on The Law comes into the conference
room singing federal jargon. Their necks are covered in chocolatey
growths. Spat up an eyeful of steam in the lumber yard parking lot.
Written in her own shit with a ground down fork.
Written in her own shit with a ground down fork
Written in her own shit with a ground down fork.
Written in her own shit with a ground down for