Belle glade missionaries are here to steal your cocaine
You better send your malaria to puncture their brains
And send them back to where they came from
Send them back to their savannas of disease

From your first psychotic episode to your drug induced schizophrenia
It's your dysphoric mania that makes you so likable
And everybody wanna save you
Save you just for themself

They're letting children get blown up in their schools today
So they can get them back into their factories
You know it pains me to see you all being so betrayed
But I guess you'll never know so it doesn't matter

My fever must be high because these bitter winter winds
Have made the bones in my jaw go hollow
And there's a sense that there's a prowler on the prairie
Leaving hair on the walls

We helped to flatten the sounds that bound down dolores st.
And my greatest fear released into someone else's consciousness
And now it's theirs to contend with
Ah, but still there's these razors to pretend with

They're letting children get blown up in their schools today
So they can get them back into their factories
You know, it pains me to see you all being so deceived
But I guess you'll never know so it doesn't matter

I have the sense you wanna be the female henry miller
Cynically referring to your lovers as your pricks
And exploiting other people's madness

On nexus
You claimed to have called out to me
Telepathically through all archaic mediums
But I never once heard you, so
I think you were just lying again

I feel like I've been becket's molloy-d
Like something nature people avoid
Like all my talent's been destroyed
LIke i'm a para-spectral voice
With no choices at the present
still there's a value in things unpleasant

Well you post naked gifts of your epileptic fits
And keep track of your hits
And your friends don't give a shit
And view your fugues with amusement
Of all the evil in the universe, there are no victims only participants

They're letting children get blown up in their schools today
So they can get them back into their factories
You know, it pains me to see you all being so betrayed
But I guess you'll never know so it doesn't matter
Doesn't matter

I can't trust my instincts lately
they don't feel organic
They feel more synthetic
They feel more synthetic
More synthetic
Synthetic
Synthetic

Copyright: BUG MUSIC
Writer(s): Kevin Barnes