Sex. Work. Death. (Part I)

In a deep deep sleep of the innocent I am born again,

from a great height, from a great height,

I live in a town where you can’t smell a thing,

we hope your rules and wisdom choke you,

one day I am going to grow wings,

I’ve given all I can, but we’re still on the payroll.

Will frequently check credit at

Moral

Bank

Hole in wall

It’s just business, cattle prods and the IMF

Fifteen blows to the back of your head,

Fifteen blows to your mind

This is my final fit,

my final bellyache with

no alarms and no surprises.

Pull me out of the aircrash,

pull me out of the lake

hey man...

slow down.

Idiot, slow down.

Amen, slow down.

Please, slow down.