Hey Kid. I'm A Computer. Stop All The Downloading

On the count of three everybody over dose

They're coming with forks and knives to eat us alive

Victims in this cannibalistic human race or proprietors in this dog eat dog colonization?

We sluts have fattened and ripened in these la castles

We rust in the milk we've been fed. With moments left

If we stick ourselves with syringes and scrape our lungs with dollar bills

We can forge a roof that will hold us in and keep them out

Inevitable that the same person that fatted us calves

would now feed on the soft parts of our lower backs

Rather than humble and take to our knees to the homely we proclaim

You cannot buy love you cannot sell feelings

Have at me with your most primitive touch

Secretaries now make great lovers

As do those we had never considered. To a burning empire

We were meant to eat eachother.

The sound of cracking bones shall be the music that plays us out