I Raise My Craving Hands

The Polaroid of perfection, demirep and stained with hate

well wounded I stuttle the crowd with my vogue lack of

faith

the up and coming vendetta, the # vultures' extremes

spruce me up with a sweet little plaything, spruce me

fucking supreme

I raise my craving hands, to the image of her promised

land

the succulent teenage cunt, tempteth me to exeunt

Wish me well, wish me hell...all I ever wanted was a

story to tell

The absence of goals, the lack of control

the absence of aim and the present fame...

The absence of goals, the lack of control

everyone knows I should be extolled

the absence of aim and the present fame

everyone would sell their souls to play this game

...it's the game we play...