I've acquired the dullest of modern memories,
Circle around the complex of life to find its asymmetries,
And I'm hung,
Like calender's past its prime,
Marked into a blockaded day with numb sun,
So now I'm emotionally fertile with moonlight in my gun,
Aim them at the lions that maul the flesh from my sanity,
Turn them into hairy cherubs for bliss tyrannical anarchy,