Something is movin in your stomach,
some kind of liquid, bright and strange.
With the ligths of our glasses
we'll build a big toilet
where we'll spend long hours
fucking like friends

Writting the noises of our stomachs
in a piece of paper from this toilet.
Patiently waiting for the right moment,
gently asking for someone else.

But we've to be careful
with the smell of our normalities
or better, be aware,
cause someday they'll come.

The next big day meeting
will be in SAturn
then we'll meet each other
and take a little trip.

With the shit from our asses
we'll build a house in the air.
We'll hunt some plastic
and a bottle of water,
and some ropes...
till go insane

--mioclonic