We've drained full confession booths
Polluted drinking wells with our repentances
And then stood grinning with our arm
Around our shoulders of a rotting child
Hold that pose, provisional arrogant little pigs
Who devour their siblings
Shoot that dog if we can't afford to feed
Shoot that dog if we can't afford to feed
Famine fathered a moth
Famine fathered a moth that begot our fathers
Keep your voices down, I'm sneaking out
Hey, what's the big idea?
Keep your fucking hands off the insight
That rat has got it's mother's eyes
That rat has got it's mother's eyes
Breeding and nausea
They are pouring themselves into the sea