Death to the ******* demon _ _. Death to existence.
Cordial in a crystal bottle doesn't impress
me, Me? I've glazed over like a technicolour dream
in sickly black spit-up and half-uttered heresy
I mourned that loss of my anchor so maybe I should get
another one tattooed, eh?
Late at night I hear purring and engines
Every night I hear the cats screaming
Looking around from behind my eye lids that require a can opener
Somehow I can't seal my mind off from you though.