I've got the skin of a shark And I'm gonna make a muscle. Just holding onto filth Of the pornagraphic slut. I've got an ill will And a pair of brass knuckles
Strangled by the stereowire Cut and depressed in the victim's eye. With a public finger on a false alarm. Pulling down in a rush of irreversible lies.
Rental sting, the customer is king. Waste your life, waste your life. Little things can cost you everything. Save your life, save your life. Dead and
Drew a line to keep your place, Expecting too much from you. And I can hardly see your face. It's all covered with noxema. If you decide one day to concentrate
A death in the park, A death in the dark. I'm calling the cops. Cops, calling all cars. It's not the way they want it to be. It's not the way they wanted
Dead red eyes flickering half bright went on for ride (? ) In slick silk. they were on to my circumstantial slide, Blow by blow chipped off shell and
She takes the bones of her hands, to tangle up the soles of her feet. To make a loss look good on paper, 'til it's outside of our reach. And they're coming
Fabricoh is the favorite sound around. Watch the wholesale slaughter of the whole downtown. Stepping off the ship in limbo. (? ) It's the spit on his
X'ing out the numbers puts me in a slumber Can't call for help and nobody's at home. Had a premonition, icy cold suspicion Fueled by superstition and
Step into the light. So tired of being in the dark and all alone. Step into the light. Step into the light. So tired of being in the dark and all alone
I've been so down lately. You've been so low lately. Nothing seems to work out for you and me. For you and me. I've been so down lately. You've been
They're running on their worst defense, defenses. They're running on their worst defense, defenses. They're running on their worst defense, defenses.
What do you fucking care for me? I'm black and blue and bruised all the fucking time. Why should I fucking care for you? I've been with you in the morning
I can barely hear you breathing. I like the sound of your voice. Sweetly soft, it kills me. There's something wrong with my toast. There's something wrong
Fashion bleeds, stains and frees, spreading all life's scum and sleaze. Spitting fire, in the eyes, of the least suspecting patrons. Turning cold, with
We're on the outside, And we're all making fun of you. You're on the inside, Looking through your shit. (? ) And you can see that, it's not your fault
There's a worm in your head, Squirming over on me. Leaves a paper thin scab And you're laughing. It's too crowded With the skull cap on. (? ) When you
South of the river's mouth Migration slopes slowly towards mainland. There, the salt air Fills the gills of the dead bait in hand. The deep is in riot