Everyday dearest orchid find a way and prey and prey and prey

Behind the eye's of your sister's portrait

Wine wind and pray on the minds

Two dearest things

One man with a gun and one with an arm

It is a basic sensation, No it was a basic sensation, no it is a basic sensation

A fantasmata of her mother

Don't avoid the straightforward answers but take the cold one with the cold arms

Like a megaphone

Too painful and no harm

Maybe we have a second rate son

Superhuman, acknowledged absurd subhuman?

Provoke a frenzy in me my love, provoke a frenzy in me, provoke a frenzy in me my love

Unconsious and screwed by all

Does one expect an afterlife?

No, I only wish for the after thrice

Hand over with the devil's trident

And paint it the orchid because we have a second rate son

He's abrupt, rude, and undone

Deism at hand

Now you know

I won't go