Thought Industry - Daterape Cookbook | Текст песни

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• Thought Industry
• Daterape Cookbook

[I) Interstellar Combine Races Towards Pluto]

Milk toast shag scabs greased lips. Propped north
ass pastel pillows. Digest tight Valentino damp boxes.
Elmer's glazed moron teeth. Squeel rabbits drip baby
oil. Cock mainline love malted. Mods carve the pig
speared on their spits.

Brent was bored, rolling in his vomit on the chapel
floor. Lost his bankcard, then kicks creamy stalls urine
shit 'gotta headache whore.

Permed hair whips farm boys wild. Gnashing groins
prim blast hole. Screaming Wilbur's fat dissolves.
Nathan lurch. Elmer "pulls out". Chipper New York
ska skanks 78 speed. Pork steroid film protection.
Dosed Shriner's tiny cars explode.

Brent was bored, picking on the fairy on the disco
floor. Drowns in gossip, and hears through the "scene"
that his girlfriend's a social whore. Forgive her. So
punch in her ribs and say you missed her. Fool, you
lose. Her life is nothing. Jane's life means nothing.

[II) Joppa Soy Field (Where's Philip Whalen?)]

Bullie Jeb beats my ass, and his slut consumes my
blue pills. The sand in my bubblegum cracks like a
spoonful of ants. Inchworm. Write down. Pen all the
trash in my head. Pearl cheek. Tattooed high. Four
pastor boys caught in bed. No pants, senator? Spotted
owls rape lumberjacks. Write down, pen all the smut in
my forehead.

Manure wagons stacked skunk weed. Smoke crack
blistered fannie. Helicopter cops mace wheat rows.
Drunk beatniks escape in chevies. Naked man dance
bonfire, telemarketing grandma. Duc-tape her mouth,
and slit her throat.

Brent was bored, calling in a bomb threat to the
republican ball. Drowns in gossip, and hears through
the "scene" that his girlfriend 's a social whore. You
whore. Kick in her face and say you missed her. Fool,
you lose. Her life is nothing. Jane's life means nothing

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