to Junk Island we'll burn up like the seagulls and the whiskey bottles. We're scrapped Valentines. We're tangerine rinds. We're Crimes, Crimes, Crimes, Crimes, Crimes
Ride! Ride! Ride the crippled horse. Ride the broken mare. Ride the jaundice buck. Ride the dead Pegasus. You're so fucked up, you're a fucking mess
to Junk Island we'll burn up like the seagulls and the whiskey bottles. We're scrapped valentines. We're tangerine rinds. We're crimes, crimes, crimes, crimes, crimes
Neon black tanks grope the skyline. Neon black cocks rot into poison wine. Neon black flowers on the mass grave. Neon black corpses, stacked, eclipse
These hot machine years burning time across your face See the smoke stacks rising up like fuck you towers? My girlfriend sang like a hummingbird today
I just want to join the party, but the confetti falling is razor sharpened. I just want to blow out the candles, but the cake is sprinkled with punctured
Those tire tracks zigzag your torso like a Devil's self portrait. The car accident, the skin graft treatment, the flower baskets, the wincing relatives
Scarecrow, you ruined me. Now I've caught my hands in the death machine. They fed my children to the lions; they made me watch it on the television.
The carnival's glossy ghosts zebra-painted horses parade the cotton candy prostitutes caramel apple corpses singing: "Just this way to the neon orange
Mr. Howell: The dinner was fine until she opened her mouth. Oh, Candy! Oh, Candy! Behind her teeth 15 rats started screaming and sobbing. Candy girl!
I wanna tell you about the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse. C'mon and watch him spread his legs and birth another diva. Prommageddon pit, smash hit.
you strike for better wages at the cola factory and they drink champagne as they kick in your teeth? Hey Peacock? What's that? I just wanna know what his blood
I've spent 22 years in this zoo of broken faces. Parents and school children watch me sit on this neon nest, naked. There's a girl in a cage making
Those wolf mechanics. Those wolf mechanics. Today you beat the fortune teller to death with your bare hands. Was it his smirk laugh or the ostrich feather
Twenty-four seven i'm in trouble for nothin', To the laws on the topic of the daily discussion Blood pumpin and rushin I gotta struggle to survive I be
Twenty-four seven i'm in trouble for nothin', To the laws on the topic of the daily discussion Blood pumpin and rushin I gotta struggle to survive I
20 seconds of instrumental to open] [Z-Ro] Who else but me, can see the state of emergency that we face Cause wearin of certain clothin can get a brother
