custom_concern unhinged their custom concern for the people build up monuments and steeples to wear out our eyes i get up just about noon my head sends a match for me to reach for my shoes and then walk. gotta go to work, gotta go to work, gotta get a job. goes through the parking lot fields doesn't see no signs that they will yield. and then thought, this'll never end this'll never end, this'll never stop message read on the bathroom stall says, 'i don't feel at all like i fall' and we're losin' all touch, losin' all touch building a desert. modest_mouse 030920 what's it to you? who go blather from