Lletres: The Melvins. Stag. Goggles.

Of weak intensity, of sheer velocity
Silver boy gone but he left his hand
Happy to chain, leave all his things
Get right and heave it, maybe taste a few

Untell my visions clear, I'll not fight here
The last thing I need is time to feed
Happy to chain, leave all my things
Get right and heave it, maybe taste a few