PSYCHIC RAGE POT
What do you think about it? Is it funny? You were born to lose. Building your wall, you stem the flow. It will crack soon. You watch television, so I turn your fucking brain off. Your life is a gun and you are the target, you are the target. What you think is what I let you make. What you think is what I let you. Make! You! Come on! Make! You! Come on! Now! I'm your brittle bones, your broken spleen and that is the ground. Blood is gushing out but you can't stop it, you can't stop it. Yesterday a tree has fallen down, you are crashing right now. What you think is what I let you make. What you think is what I let you. Make! You! Come on! Make! You! Come on! Now! Nothing is special any more. All has been done, we can't improve. To hope is so strange, in a cage. We have no choice, but to escape. All the things I want, all the things I've got, all the things I steal, this is what you need.
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