That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles,
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Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic,
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Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you,
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To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium
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IĄŻll bet your hands are beautiful,
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IĄŻm sure your head is beautiful,
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But the world is ugly,
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The world is ugly and itĄŻs true,
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IĄŻll bet your hands are beautiful,
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IĄŻm sure your head is beautiful,
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But with world is ugly,
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The world is ugly even after you
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Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service,
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All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing canĄŻt hurt us,
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Sensationalized for virgin eyes, itĄŻs graphic, itĄŻs disturbing,
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And itĄŻs worse still to think itĄŻs real,
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Degrading and unnerving
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Welcome To Plainfield Tobe Hooper
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| Showbread |
