And the violence in my insides is glowing and malignant, and
the only way
to stop it, is to cut a hole and let the fresh air come in.
And your public face is dripping, now you're famous and
you're beautiful,
but i can still remember when your mouth was always open,
like a stairway
leading down to hell.
Now your perfect body's shining, and the camera's always
circling, and the
boys and girls are dreaming, and your naked body's bleeding
where the dogs
have ripped away your skin.
And the world is always shrinking, and my mind is
disappearing, in the holy
adulation of your all-inclusive open arms, and feeling
penitential, l'm cuning
off my finger, and l'm faxing you the image, via omnipresent
electricity.
And the communists were torturing a sacred man and
women, whose screams flew
out the window and through the Himalayas, then changed into
a buttelfly and
drifted through the wind, and landed on a street in Paris,
where you crushed
it underneath your high-heeled fin.
Now l'm killing and l'm stealing and l'm raping and l'm burning
and l'm
feeling kinda magic due to mental enervation, so i'll send my
mind into the
hard body of a rockstar, and maybe then you'll fuck me,
'cause 5 million
people love me, and you wanna suck my energy.
Yeah this world is made of losers, but I wanna be a winner,
I'll do anything it takes to hypnotize the upturned faces, into
trusting me completely so they'll
need me to supply, the object that will fill the emptiness that
was created
by repetition of an image and a sound they recognize, and
their malleable
identities will be sexually excited by the product which I will
then provide.
And this planet keeps on dri
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