(Original song by @anarchapunk: https://suno.com/s/zaBvZd2mnE69BUdF Check her stuff out, one of the few suno artist's I actually listen to from time to tiime. Testing mash up's with these new models. @anarchapunk, you may request for me to remove this song from public viewing if you want.) Tiles like teeth, cracked and mean, mirror’s drunk, it leans obscene. Graffiti prayers in lipstick red, someone scrawled “God’s dead” above the head. I laugh. Sink won’t drain, soap’s long gone, flies hold court, the throne’s their lawn. A cigarette burns in the bin, smells like bleach and mortal sin. I gag. That bathroom, that cursed stall, where I saw myself and lost my soul.. I guess it's still floating there. Still floating there, yeah. Still floating there... My boots stick fast to the floor, door won’t lock, I brace the door. A poster peels, some band long dead, their eyes still scream what mine won’t said. I grin. That bathroom, that cursed stall, where I saw myself and lost my soul.. I guess it's still floating there. Still floating there, yeah. Still floating there... If hell had plumbing, this is it — the pipes cough blood, the bulb throws fits. I hum a tune, pretend it’s fine, punk salvation in the grime. That bathroom, that cursed stall, where I saw myself and lost my soul.. I guess it's still floating there. Still floating there, yeah. Still floating there...
