We have a machine and
It is made of knives
And wires
And an old pair of pliers
To keep it tight to the face
And it has a nice pearl handle
On the lever where you pull
And we hang and we fall and
It has three wheels of
That spin around and
Carved full of symbols
Like a slot machine
And each configuration is a win
Is a win
It eats bullets and glass
And it spits its teeth jackpot
And makes the prettiest sounds
When it spins
And jingles and rattles
And the handle the
Lever where we pull
Begs a pull
It takes dollars and cents and
The nails from the fingers
And the toes and it spins
When we pull on the pretty pearl handle
And when the scratches line up
When they line up he spits
His tongue in little bits with the glass and
The grit of his teeth at us
And he claws at his face at his mask
At his face
And he peels back his fingers on the latches
On the lashes of the
And we put the pay-out in a bucket
With a ladle in it
And we all want a turn to wear the
Face or the mask or the face in the mask
And we want to see the shapes that it takes
When it reads us
Eats us
When we can spend all our money
All our skin and
Quarters on the
Lament Machine Alpha