Vocaloid Kikuo -

The parade in my skull plays a trumpet of bones. Every step that I take breaks the floor into stones. Mother’s soup tastes like prayers and old lace. She smiles with the teeth of a much younger face.

(Spoken, whispered, doubled) “Why is the moon bleeding?” “Shh. That’s just jam.” “Where is my shadow?” “It ran… it ran… it ran…” vocaloid kikuo

One, two, three — the oven is cold. Four, five, six — my fingers are sold. Seven, eight, nine — the doctor is blind. Ten, eleven, twelve — “You’re doing just fine.” The parade in my skull plays a trumpet of bones

La-la-la, lick the knife. Daddy’s home with a brand-new wife. She wears a dress made of Sunday clocks. And the candy just ate my tick-tocks. (Eat them up, eat them up, tick-tocks stop.) She smiles with the teeth of a much younger face