Let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast,
We have seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea,
Syntactic is our elegance,
Incisive our disease,
The swath endogenous of ourselves will be our quandary,
We've nestled in its hollow and we've suckled at its breast,
Grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept,
Frivolous gavel our design,
Ludicrous our threat,
Excursive expeditions leave us holding less and less,
So what does it mean?
When we tell ourselves it's only for a while
We have been deceived
And it's only for a moment that the treasures of our day
The treasure thrown away,
I'm so tired
Of all the fucked up minds
Of all the terrorist religions
And their bullshit lines,
And of all the hand-me-downs
From all industrial crimes
And the weeping mothers
And those who are led so blind,
From the plastic protests
And the hands of time
And the pursuit of mirth
And all hating kind.