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The stock is empty |
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in our eyeball store |
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All we got left |
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a few cataracts and sores |
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The faggot mimic machine |
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never had ideas |
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Mission impossible |
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they self destruct on fear |
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On a standard New York night |
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ghouls go to see their so called stars |
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A fairly stupid thing |
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to pay 5 bucks for a 4th rate imitators |
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They say, I'm so empty |
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no surface, no depth |
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Oh, please, can I be you |
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your personality's so great |
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Like new buildings |
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square tall and the same |
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Sorry, Miss Stupid |
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didn't you know it was a game |
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I'm just waiting |
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for them to hurry up and die |
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It's really getting to crowed here |
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help me New York stars |
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Contributions accepted all the same |
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We need new people store |
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remember, we're very good at games |
