"Backwash districts sprung from Ra's bright hips
Reduced to silkscreen hand job new car ego trips
And it's just endless combinations of the same old %#@!

Sloshing back and forth across some continents"

All that talking it ain't got no use when it's just mal-digestion that's been haunting you

Along with reflux opinions from your ulcer moods
You're just a litany of horrors like the evening news but


Off somewhere in a New York flat, benzedrine derailed rants of immeasurable frenetic praise
That cauterize before they save


All the truth now in how you're lying there
Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet
All the truth now in how you're lying there in

Angelheaded elsewhere so markedly meek

Slapped like a has been by syntactic gods

whom which the help you find your glasses but not your lower jaw
And you don't want to look surprised but you're in constant AHHH!
Ain't no fig leaf big enough to hide your dicktion flaws now


Teeming pools of alphabetic shame that spit out
Infinitely indolent verbs across your page

Who dig their cloddish claws instantly into some nouns legs
if once your m !@#*cript just limped now it's become quite lame but


Off somewhere in New York flat, they don't deal with things like that, just
immeasurable frenetic praise that cauterizes as it saves


All the truth now in how you're lying there
shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet
All the truth now in how you're lying there in

angelheaded elsewhere so markedly meek

All the truth now in how you're lying there

shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet
All the truth now in how you're lying there in
angelheaded elsewhere for the past six weeks