Garden snakes are growing their [?]
And I wonder how they compensate for their hissing
We have gotten molded by horses
And it's just a lack of late mistakes
I believe to know the groans that she gave me, my head's taking over
And strutting there, I'm off to the gates when I'm dreaming
Simply stomping, hoarding the hours, what not(?)
Leaving, let it come again
[?] the taste
Soul in the [?]
Making a mistake
Molded in harder
What's the [?]
Holding his hammer
Something has to stop
Holding the ladder