Backwash districts sprung from Ra's bright hips   Reduced to silkscreen hand job new car ego trips   And it's just endless combinations of the same old shit   Sloshing back and forth across some continents   All that talking it ain't got no use when it's just mal digestion that's been haunting you   Along with reflux opinions from your ulcer moods   You're just a litany of horrors like the evening news   But off somewhere in a New York flat,   benzedrine derailed rants of immeasurable frenetic praise   That cauterize before they save   All the truth now in how you're lying there   Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet   All the truth now in how you're lying there in   Angelheaded elsewhere so markedly meek   Slapped like a has been by syntactic gods   Whom which then help you find your glasses but not your lower jaw   And you don't want to look surprised but you're in constant ahhh!   Ain't no fig leaf big enough to hide your dicktion flaws now   Teeming pools of alphabetic shame that spit out   Infinitely indolent verbs across your page   Who dig their claws instantly into some nouns legs   If once your manuscript just limped now it's become quite lame   But off somewhere in a New York flat, they don't deal with things like that   Just immeasurable frenetic praise that cauterizes as it saves   All the truth now in how you're lying there    Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet   All the truth now in how you're lying there in   Angelheaded elsewhere so markedly meek   All the truth now in how you're lying there    Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet   All the truth now in how you're lying there in    Angelheaded elsewhere for the past six weeks