Forgotten throes of anothers lifeThe heart of love is their only lightFaithless greeds, consolidatingHolding down sweet charityWith western eyes and serpents breathWe lay our own conscience to restBut I’m aching at the viewYes I’m breaking at the scenes just like youThey have values of a certain tasteThe innocent they can hardly waitTo crucify, invalidatingTurning to dishonestyWith western eyes and serpents breathThey lay their own conscience to restBut then they lie and then they dare to beHidden heros candidlySo I’m aching at the viewYes I’m breaking at the scenes just like you
(I feel so cold on hookers and gin…this mess we’re in!)