All time is sterilized,
all projects, all properties, under surveillance.
The queer has been coded,
its skeleton's in print.
Lust of sheep, quenched,
minds of insects, diseased,
the weird all shamble in place.

But they cannot enter this space,
where my ebony spider waits,
and they cannot measure my eyes,
they cannot find my serpentine dreams
that slither, shedding skins upon this wasteland's soil.

We never were a revolution,
we were simply idiots with the wind,
psychosis of the witch,
death of the gods,
we are where Pisces pours its sweet poison,
where Aries gives way to the flesh,
dropping us where the maggots fall,
where the maggots get it on...

And they cannot put me to sleep,
nor can they lie to me,
and they cannot measure my eyes,
they cannot show me where beauty lies,
my heart's pathway...