If you sit there and think Who am I? How did I get here? What is going to happen when I die? You can scare the hell out of yourself For all our science and philosophy Nobody actually knows what happens After the last gasp Where we go, or what we become After the last gasp All of a sudden I find myself hurtling through space With only the taste of lips as evidence that I once Battled against your chronic indifference When we couldn't go the distance I was left crippled Dead, sure of the outcome You lose some, you get thrashed in some The bruises became uniform The leather belt worn I struggled to think of a beastlier beast Than the beast you became upon crossing swords With the use of stimulants Driven only by the herculean desire to fill your body With anything which helps you forget That it's a body in the first place Haunted by the uncontrollable urge to have sex For which I sometimes fear the only cure is castration Or murder But you are still my colditz I still your truck-stop whore If this is it, if this is all there is I don't wanna play no more Beneath the searing bookend Of the earth's reptilious skin You painted a picasso, gored, The rocks below soften our fall We take no prisoners, leave nothing, only ghosts Creeping down the silk road From the third world to the fucked-up world Kill everything that moves Yes I was a fool, yes you were a fool But who can name the penny That has not been in the pocket of a fool