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Lyrics
Reach for the bo-staff,
Iniquities and the burden of where e'er the sun don't chime,
In a one slum drum where loving is hatred,
Decapitate the stag and gore the she-wolf's young.
Tongue-tied to retro blades,
Sack-deep in the back burner,
Death's head addicted to rogaine,
Viagra-clad super-dictators roar.
Miss Arianne sits her company down for tea time
As the sublime snorts another line of prime-time
Human spinal cord surrounded by the adder step-ladder,
Still snapping at your marinated slack-bladder
Fecund stench of the quagmire,
The dwellers of the bog can't get enough of this horse-shit sire,
The irresistable transistor-sister
Begging for dismissal from Mr. Hissthistle,
You and I entwined as every pore cries
The thick slick of our demise
Running down each other's thighs
But to drink is better than to be dried out
Exoskeletal mish-mash,
The prison wardens shout
Muddy murder in the form of the deserter who spareth the flock
But absentmindedly dineth upon the sheep herder,
Mission never accomplished is a cold dish
To be served with whatever the weather doth wish.
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