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We pierced the side of the idol |
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With the sharpened neck of an electric guitar |
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Bottled the water from the wound |
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Holy relic- the essence of star |
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But what does she care, it's just another blank stare |
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Where the orphans ask the widows the meaning of 'fair' |
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So let this be a drink to quench this uncontrollable thirst |
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To a world that loves and hates you on a dare |
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And when this once at least gilded cage has been |
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Tie the belt a notch tighter around anxious hearts set to burst |
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What have you done, |
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Mark David |
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Chapman? Stripped bare of flesh cold and numb |
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Lead you to some meaning of truth |
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The emotions were shrink wrapped, sold as scraps |
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Let all the desperate hours of boredom |
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Bumps and bruises and notebooks for heaven's jury as proof |
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Choose any scene from the vending machine |
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Somewhere lost in the night, a satellite transmitted dream |
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So let this be a drink to calm the shaking hands that you've found |
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If we wear out each other it's o.k., just go buy another |
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Industrial revolutions of the soul interchangeable hearts it's manufacturing |
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Let this be release, forever unwound. |
