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| Residents Snakefinger Picnic In The Jungle Afterwards, it's like a dream You can't remember but it seems To stay alive inside your mind And prey upon your leisure time It happens in an open spot The air is sticky and it's hot First they take away our clothes Then they lay us down in rows A cloud appears and melts away The flesh of some while others stay Machines that look like little cars Consume the bones and count the scars In a place that no one knows We are prisoners of those That no one sees and no one hears But everybody hates and fears Every day they leave a tray And take an empty one away On the tray are chicken legs Potato salad and some eggs sallysally@lyrics.ch |
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