Lyric discussion by Panthrop 

Tiny spirits in a k-hole Bloated like soggy cereal

She's in the k-hole. She's lost inside her head, just a tiny spirit drifting through imaginary worlds.

God will come and wash away Our tattoos and all the cocaine And all of the aborted babies Will turn into little bambies

Optimism.

Wounded river push along Searching for that desert song And Mozart's requiem will play On tiny speakers made of clay

Well, it's abstract. I get a feeling of her as the river, flowing clear and aimless, or maybe according to a destined course. She's wet and she's surrounded by dry dirt, but might find a song in the splish-splash as she bounces off dead rocks and clay.

Tell my mother that I love her Martin Luther you're an angel

'music meaning' got that one.

Charming monkey saunter swagger Drunken donkey limbs disjointed Your chest is a petting zoo Mexican pony fucked up shoes

Walking with a face full of ketamine is strange. Ketamine reduces you to just a mind, and it's absurd having it controlling this marrionette of a body. There's more in those lines than just that, of course, but I don't get it.

I dreamt one thousand basketball courts Nothing holier than sports

I don't get it. Other than that sports might be holy because they're so morally unambiguous. They're really all fun and games. You can screw things up and you always get a chance to try again. When you hurt someone it's just by scoring a goal against them, and they can always try to make up for it. If you beat them, well, they knew going in that they might not win, and they can always play again later.

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