You wake up deadmen   With your loose sex    You shout at them, C'mon    And as they fumble in half-delirium    You smash them back down dead    With a thud    Or drain them dry and throw them aside like an empty bottle    Always keeping them as a collector    In a nearby trash barrel    Unless they completely break    And are fortunate enough to be swept away    And you, all knowing handler    You heartlessly say    You don't know me, you don't know    And we turn further to the grave    More lost than ever before    Unless some unknown force    And even then that island is an enigma (?)    And they long for the trash barrel    And your scathing rebuke    Ah you knew them well    Before you consulted the night    And their dreary ways    Your instinct is the truest thing    Your hate is the staunchest foe    Your queen bee love leaves a lot to be desired    Take it from a friend