Vision Of A Mission
Receive the energy, let it flow.
Balance the input and output levels.
Meteoric rise from the ashes of hell
to maintain a sensible manner.
Riot gear to control my thoughts,
psychosis of the never ever again scenario:
Arse-shitting, sleeping, vomiting,
figure eight to fold the whole.
Left together, right together,
charming electromagnetic fields of golden mist,
consuming ribbons for the funfair.
Cold, early, virtually fat-free,
remember me, I’m sort of alright.
Trading celebrities for orphans,
melted ice cream on my breasts.
Aeroplanes under the bed,
anchors for hands and she sank.
31.05.00