Backwoods bombardier
horribly relevant details of no significance
and a queer idea
spreads the new fear
patent pending instinct bending insane new drugs
(Go longer, fuck harder, between refills, it even walks your retarded pets,
swallow enough and you'll die so no regrets)
blemished fetishes and half-rhyming
psycho-semantic addicts (slavery to the needle pricks)
ride a one eyed walrus straight to hell
settle in a kaleidoscopic hermit crab shell
bubonic tonic and two tonnes of wayward shades
form the morbid corpus of our decadent parades
all hail the victorious dead and the dread tele-screens
(the ones that they embedded at the base of our latrines)
regulating fiends as a 12 gauge disciple
In the body politik
Who's our shoulder for the rifle?
Who's the trigger and the finger,
And who the fuck are we shootin'?
The have nots who wanted some
So we scud 'em in the lootin'
Our fabulous new product!
Try it now!
You'll never have to try again!
I'll pour out your soul so just say when
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