A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

THOUGHT INDUSTRY lyrics : "Daterape Cookbook"

(I Interstellar Combine Races Towards Pluto)

Milk toast shag scabs greased lips. Propped north

ass pastel pillows. Digest tight Valentino damp boxes.
Elmer's glazed moron teeth. Squeel rabbits drip baby
oil. @@#! mainline love malted. Mods carve the pig

speared on their spits.

Brent was bored, rolling in his vomit on the chapel

floor. Lost his bankcard, then kicks creamy stalls urine
%#@! 'gotta headache !@^%.


Permed hair whips farm boys wild. Gnashing groins
prim blast hole. Screaming Wilbur's fat dissolves.
Nathan lurch. Elmer "pulls out". Chipper New York

ska !@$#s 78 speed. Pork steroid film protection.
Dosed Shriner's tiny cars explode.


Brent was bored, picking on the fairy on the disco
floor. Drowns in gossip, and hears through the "scene"
that his girlfriend's a social !@^%. Forgive her. So

punch in her ribs and say you missed her. Fool, you
lose. Her life is nothing. Jane's life means nothing.


(II Joppa Soy Field (Where's Philip Whalen?)

Bullie Jeb beats my $$#, and his !@#% consumes my

blue pills. The sand in my bubblegum cracks like a
spoonful of ants. Inchworm. Write down. Pen all the
trash in my head. Pearl cheek. Tattooed high. Four

pastor boys caught in bed. No pants, senator? Spotted
owls rape lumberjacks. Write down, pen all the smut in
my forehead.


Manure wagons stacked skunk weed. Smoke crack
blistered fannie. Helicopter cops mace wheat rows.

Drunk beatniks escape in chevies. Naked man dance
bonfire, telemarketing grandma. Duc-tape her mouth,
and slit her throat.


Brent was bored, calling in a bomb threat to the
republican ball. Drowns in gossip, and hears through

the "scene" that his girlfriend 's a social !@^%. You
!@^%. Kick in her face and say you missed her. Fool,
you lose. Her life is nothing. Jane's life means nothing

to you.

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