this man
may have a shitload
to prove
he's got to settle a score
against the groove
infinite orgasm
like endless joy and pain
thunder to my ears
like a holy rain
an aural wall of waking
awash in purple paint
and a digging
of the flowers in your yard
electric rays of healing
intensify the feeling of hatred
towards the things you say
i ain't
fear a man-child
his soul and seman
pathetic thoughts he thinks
forever
heard you caused a landslide
walking home
soon slide the man-child
under your coat
product of your generation
your masturbation
a master plan
a holy man
infanticide
decaying minds
mass corruption
the product
and its production |