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He'll chase away the skeletons harboured in your Christian closets |
|
Salutations to a passenger of guilty trips |
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Of guilty trips well travelled |
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Well travelled and travelling |
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Thoughts of glory holes |
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Of angel kisses |
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Of golden showers |
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All cured by a holy bottle of H2O |
|
So shock me Peter |
|
This is the day |
|
For this unruly soul to make its getaway |
|
Shock me Peter |
|
Clear the way |
|
You're selling lies but it's enough to make me say |
|
Get away |
|
A diluted broth of plastic pop songs birthed of sunlight and toxic glitter |
|
Fed unto the wanting spoonfuls of formaldehyde laced with a pinch of ginger |
|
And the midnight people banished by oil-slickened productions |
|
My zombie honey, do you realise what you've done? |
|
Your loneliness is killing us |
|
Ruled and ruling |
|
Beckoned by the beckoning |
|
So shock me Peter |
|
This is the day |
|
For this unruly soul to make its getaway |
|
Shock me Peter |
|
Clear the way |
|
You're selling lies but it's enough to make me say |
|
Get away |
|
Get away from your golden arches |
|
Your pre-packaged prophets designed to conduct your choreographed lives |
|
Morals for immortality |
|
Quarrels for brutality |
|
Blank stares and stifling yawns all fed to the broken masses |
|
Wash it all away |
|
Angry egos and holy placebos will cast away the rotting |
|
With your Hollywood gods all built on a mountain of recycled flesh |
|
Dead eyes fashioned with wide smiles |
|
It's hard to stay beautiful without the tender touch of a scalpel's knife |
|
Tell me your stories |
|
Tell me your glories |
|
Tell me your light and I'll tell you my dark |
|
So shock me Peter |
|
This is the day |
|
For this unruly soul to make its getaway |
|
Shock me Peter |
|
Clear the way |
|
You're selling lies but it's enough to make me say |
|
Get away |
