Suddenly surreal
I feel milk upon the water
blood and slaughter
Dada
isms
watching life through coloured prisms.

and it hits me
pits me
against
the lot of them.

The squandered dreams of broken men and I lay me in the gutter dying

( next verse )
why do I even bother trying
It's just a crock, not even gold

Violent Violet sold the story and got her fifteen minutes of fame
alas no glory, but
what did she expect?

I expected just a little more from these ****** where Babylon is gushing from their lips and all I got were camels,
ships to ride across the desert which was I and of my making,
can't fake a faker and so I take you down with me.