| keep us silent | |
| and diverted | |
| drug me, corporate gods | |
| we were eager | |
| to forget | |
| now we hail the blade unmasked | |
| toward death | |
| toward the sun | |
| this needle poised in flesh | |
| drink from this lunacy | |
| and bite the hand that made you man | |
| and when springtime comes | |
| with awkward little steps | |
| to the land that mourns for me | |
| do not rush | |
| do not fear | |
| the silent frequency (of lust) | |
| and the sun goes down | |
| and death is all around | |
| and the secret son lies down | |
| and death is here to drown | |
| and everything's falling down | |
| and death is but another crown |
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