Til' Santa's Gone (Milk and Cookies)
Filling me up with all their morals and their rules
They'd pile all their problems on my head
I'd rather go out and fuck the dead
'Cause I can do what I want and they won't complain
I wanna fuck I wanna fuck the dead
Middle of the night so silently
I creep on over to the mortuary
Lift up the casket and fiddle with the dead
Their cold blue flesh makes me turn red
'Cause I can do what I want and they won't complain
I wanna fuck I wanna fuck the dead
And I don't even care how she died...
But I like it better if s
Holy
Washing machine
space age dream
Let me serve you
keep me clean
Rinse me plain
spin me sane.
I'll trust my dirt to only you.
Automobile
see me kneel
I'll scrub your back
I'll buy your meal
I'll choke your start
I'll warm your heart.
I'll dream of dying just with you.
See me wish from eight to all day long.
(l've) Got no time
I'm not inclined to hum a song.
Just like a robot
waiting for a fuse
I'm too crazy to even have the blues.
Instant
instant
instant poetry
Too hot to be continued next week.
Instant
instant
instant poetry
Too slow to be tongue in cheek.
T.V. syndrome - holy custom
Millions squeeze you to their bosom.
You're always welcome - drive out boredom
Your one eye's all the art we need.
Instant
instant
instant poetry . . .