Electronic babble   Shove off with thine elastic attitude   You condescending fuck hole, you tiny little prick   You don’t have the persuasion to crash down my power of hope with rationalization      Tower of rubble, shovel dirt back in that open hole   My soul residing? Hiding there   A devilish grin of rich desire, more fire devouring flame   And shame on you, rust beggar, the one I’ve longed for   You splendid whore      No gift perhaps, to reason on the lips of this sad, mad man   Overtaken by a vile dream in which I tumbled to earth on my disassembled feet   And you must not treat me like the others; we are not one in the same   Removed, proved to be of higher honor, least the trumpets wail   Fail to find release from this anchor, rancor of bullshit ties, these drownings      Electronic babble   Tower of rubble – shovel dirt back in that open hole   No gift perhaps to reason on the lips of this sad/madman   God forgive my slightly shifting lines in thought disfiguration      Meat as meat… defeat the source of that which spurns thee   As for me, do not mistake my misgivings as indifference to this madness that surrounds me   Often time I flee from this torturous mindstyle/deathstyle reunion   Just another onion head   Polished meal of spine structure and jaundiced horns   All the endless fragments of this distorted view of life   My soul, sold… My being? Maybe   Toss, turn, burn the smile that tries to waste you   There is no hope in repetative warfare/nightmare but then again, who the fuck am I to care?   Let us take heed of memories foretold, dear skin      King of queens and Knave of nothing, I   Dear skin