Let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast,

We have seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea,

Syntactic is our elegance,

Incisive our disease,

The swath endogenous of ourselves will be our quandary,



We've nestled in its hollow and we've suckled at its breast,

Grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept,

Frivolous gavel our design,

Ludicrous our threat,

Excursive expeditions leave us holding less and less,



So what does it mean?

When we tell ourselves it's only for a while

We have been deceived

And it's only for a moment that the treasures of our day

The treasure thrown away,



I'm so tired

Of all the fucked up minds

Of all the terrorist religions

And their bullshit lines,

And of all the hand-me-downs

From all industrial crimes

And the weeping mothers

And those who are led so blind,

From the plastic protests

And the hands of time

And the pursuit of mirth

And all hating kind.