|
Put your clammy palms in the air |
|
to dance it is the hour |
|
Yet another body to devour |
|
glorious sexual uproar |
|
Just like a roman senator |
|
With a mouthful of grapes |
|
Shake your floggid body |
|
For a hundred and twenty days |
|
Our bodies are clutching |
|
Far from the ecstasy of kissing |
|
The scrambling for Narcissus' spoils |
|
You call desire |
|
Modern idiot, Useful idiot |
|
Selling man out on the market |
|
Pleading plead freedom |
|
Dirty freedom to defile |
|
scattered doubt of majority rule |
|
(Your) automatic shield will not protect you |
|
Now you can feel how much I desire you |
|
Now the worms can feed |
|
And now it's fools' time |
|
You've got to know |
|
And now it's fools' time, fools' time |
|
Our bodies are raw |
