Inherent madness, or good or evil
Everyone is questioning my devilish innocence
Airbrushed the evidence, vanishes with the vain goodness
Proud of a crime I'm an asylum to broken bad
Crime Punishment tends to the children of terrorist acts to schoolkids
Revolutions a part of the agenda of educated sordid seditions
The propagandist flag yells "Act", taking it for what it's worth
Act before the protest, the run after the morning, I have left my clock on stop
I looking for an eternal reflection in a tomorrow I'll never see
Jungle-run and humming puns, hammering drunkards with reruns
I'm rivetting with the genesis and my enunciated elegies with the dour dry
Or for someone in dearth need and the falsities and fallacies
Peacefully and four friable fiends, that crumbled with the atomic bomb
So, why are selling streets in the dead-end dreads
The locks of a speakeasy, the talking eyes, the messages beeps intermittently, telling me to sell the bomb
In the jungle rage of the rhyming of the ****** bombs, that I find peace and fantasy with truth and profanity
Peach diesel kick out from underneath, **** my destiny and fears
Burn up with the gas, with the members of the fraternities of the derelicts with freewill crooks
Gravitating towards the era of laughter and mirthful madness
Burning money and the diesel at the same combustible pace
What's oil without fish food?
Water surfacing across the painted picture
Of the absence of truth
Inflammable, both of these items of greed in a box of full of things
The thespian greed in the sequestered dream, quoted by the *******
Quantifying these Swedish dreamers and sycophants and circadian  hillbillies