Slint — Charlotte

He was sitting beneath the shade of sleeves And he watches the hollow firm looks behind their eyes And the tears of blackness In which they were nurching These things do not live, they only appear to be endangering They exist [?] Probably nothin'! He began to lose slowly two hundred thousand wars [?] is nauseous The [?] re-silenced by the [?] he embraced That when I was little [?] Markin' (parkin') Toon (toon)