Из альбома: Death By Manipulation
Time for omittance
From a sterile existance
Where the weekend pays homage
To stereotypicalperpetuation
Must inebriate my senses
Into a state of delirium
Before I turn to the meatrack
For my penial selection
Apathy spreads
In unison with sexual disease
A scourge that infests
The cattle markets of youth
Unconscious just promiscuous
Deprived of self respect
In the selling of their bodies
All emotions dead
Thoughts absorbed
Lost in sense of direction
It's time to sit down
And re-assess my course of action