the bass player
runs his hand
through sweat-soaked bangs
his pinky bleeds
down the seam
he holds the cut
to his pursed lips
quick, gentle pressure
the blood never stops
the jumping crowd
moves the floor
this is a protest song
Anxious Little Prayers for Heathens in Despair
the bass player
runs his hand
through sweat-soaked bangs
his pinky bleeds
down the seam
he holds the cut
to his pursed lips
quick, gentle pressure
the blood never stops
the jumping crowd
moves the floor
this is a protest song