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Oh classic gentlemen |
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Say your prayers |
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To the wind of prostitution |
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To your faces, and Rex complexes |
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Riddle my breast |
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Full of the oppressed pus. |
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Oh gentlemen, with your fish |
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That you surround, all around |
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And you man, will always point |
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Your fishes at me. |
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But I will always exist |
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Because I always exist |
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Damn good too |
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The rat race begins |
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The fat face stings |
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I hold the fresh pink baby |
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With a smile. |
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I slice off those rosy cheeks |
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Because I feel so thirsty |
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And Oedipus Rex complexes |
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...riddle my closed bloated breast. |
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Oh gentlemen |
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Swallow your prayers |
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Because the wind makes a mockery of men |
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Your soul becomes a fish |
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You swim in idle waters and drink other fishes piss |
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Your soul feeds on fish |
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On piss, puss and men |
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Who in turn, become as you have become, |
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A fish |
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No, not even that, but a symbol of a fish |
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Hooked by the baby flesh of maggots |
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A ripple of life in tin |
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This tin could become your world too |
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So choose between this and water |
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Choose between tin and piss |
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Do you still feel thirsty now |
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Are you thirsty now |
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Are you thirsty now |
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Do you still feel |
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Thirsty |
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Thirsty now |
