from wicked local
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He who knows nothing is closer to the truth than he whose mind is filled with falsehoods and errors. Thomas Jefferson
2 comments:
I've seen this one before, and it's as relevant as it ever was...
"PIT DOG"
There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
She’s game
Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee
She’s game
Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago
She’s game
Blood in its eyes, it's following me
Think about the breakstick way
She mauled and then she ran away
Blood caked in her hair
She’s game
Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness
She’s game
Blood in the streets it's up to my thigh
She’s game
Yeah the river runs red down the legs of a city
She’s game
The people are crying red rivers of weepin'
She mauled and then she ran away
Blood caked in her hair
Pedestrians scattered on town sidewalks bleeding
Pits grip the young child's fragile eggshell head
Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Bloodied my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of pit-tastic L.A.
Blood screams her brain as they rip off her fingers
Blood will be shed even after castration
Blood is the rose of the gripping dog union
There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee
Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago
Blood on its jaws, it's following me
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