I think I'm gonna buy myself a bomb
to destroy this blasé mirage,
with a mortuaries brush and a bullet
I'll paint myself in blood to camouflage

the scars of belief etched upon
my scowling, juvenile face
a brainwashed idiocratic believer
following the languishing entity far up in space -

conscience ridden with bruises and hickies
flesh burns, prickles and stings
I'm merely a pawn, deluded with disdain,
one of thy lord's pathetic playthings

I don't need no one, anyone,
I'm the sole writer of my fate
the world will crumble 'neath my feet
as the Angels weep at it's sorry state

I'll **** the blood from life's
bare, fresh-skinned neck
piercing jugulars, cavorting with insanity
pulling continuous jokers from within my deck

and then you know what I'll do next?
As I push myself to the crowd's fore?
I'll active the dynamite strapped to my chest
and blow my writhing guts all over the floor -

Oh

I think I'm gonna buy myself a bomb,
hide the detonator in the waistband just above my hip,
then I'm gonna board a flight to America
and pay tribute to the despotic ruler I worship.