My eyes, they swell like pregnant breasts

When the sun stirs me from my gentle rest

My skin, it smells like black sick meat

And when I wake it wears like woolly putty

To die a rotting smelly sack of silly flesh that looks like sickness

With yellow jackets pecking at my mumps disease

And from my mouth my tongue is hanging

Like a starving cord of nerves

Ooh ooh ooh ooh

Ooh ooh ooh ooh

I would be happy mired in bacterial death

Wheezing in the ejaculation like a lion after feasting

Yes, I would be happy

Oh, if only I could shoot the sun through the navel

And pull its guts right through it with an anchor

Sleep hibernates the juices, and the starches, and the organs

While wild prostitutes gallop in the fire pits

Of my head

Beating drums and shooting stars

Out of the mouths

My eyes, they swell like pregnant breasts

When the sun stirs me from my gentle rest

My skin, it smells like black sick meat

To die a rotting smelly sack of meat