Settlers

I’ve been finding little hairs
Little teeth and little
But no is no is no
We serve our time with hands between
And hands within
But no is no is no

So we cast up a spell
A dry spell
To replace the violent streak
In you, in me

Oh, my God, it's fucking sick the stockholm grip
You've got on me
I'd settle to know that you're alive
Do you still fever? Are you temperate?
Does your heart still beat in time?