Why not see it all burn in the end, anyway.
"To a crisp..."
NEMESIS
In the jungle of the senses
Tinkerbell and Jack the ripper
Love has no meaning not where they come from
But we know pleasure is not that simple
Very little fruit is forbidden
Sometimes we wobble sometimes we're strong
But you know evil is an exact science
Being carefully correctly wrong
We feel like Greeks we feel like Romans
Centaurs and monkeys just cluster round us
We drink elixirs that we refine
>From the juices of the dying
We are not monsters we're moral people
And yet we have the strength to do this
This is the splendor of our achievment
Call in the airstrike with a poison kiss
How bad it gets you can't imagine
The burning wax the breath of reptiles
God is not mocked he knows his business
Karma could take us at any moment
Cover him up I think we're finished
You know it's never been so exotic
But I don't know my dreams are visions
We could still end up with the great big fishes!
Priests and cannibals prehistoric animals
Everybody's happy as the dead come home
Big black nemesis parthenogenesis
No one move a muscle as the dead come home
__________________________________________
I guess hell is what you make it. If only sinning didn't feel so damned good sometimes. What else are we to do to pass the time?
"When football isn't on..."
Have I hornswaggled my brain's perception of reality into believing the whisperings of a fragile ego all these years? I'm still not sure exactly where to point my finger in blame. The haunting truth comes crashing in.
"I smell cinnamon rolls!"
And then it's all justified again.
Rational thinking almost won out.
If I could just keep it at bay a little while longer...
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