• please, don't stop
    another hit of delirium juice
    let's call it strung out
    and here i sit in the back
    of a dingy old station wagon
    mentally composing an essay
    it only became those two sentences
    but i think i've covered all i really have to say

    come with me, you need to see
    this love for each man
    child left to pick rotted meat from the garbage
    take a long sigh, because your school is a lie
    in bed with a little friend called
    manipulation of idea
    we've got the cops to call on the kids with guns
    but who have we got to call on the cops?

    slide it down the bar
    another hit of delirium juice
    a stinging taste, yes
    but here we sit in the back
    of a dingy old democracy
    mentally composing a speech
    it only became what i put on the paper
    i cannot begin to cover all i really have to say

    proud works of inspiration
    subside to a constant need for ejaculation
    driving a force to escalation
    to put our little boys in another destination
    that didn't stand up to its own explanation
    but now that we have a piece of domination
    we must maintain a foreign relation
    i don't know the man at the head of our nation
    he's the only box that won't stop when we change the station

    hold it tight, you'll need it kid
    another hit of delirium delicious
    the sweet nectar of bliss taken from the teat
    but we are happy now in the back
    of a dingy old classroom
    mentally composing a love note
    it only became something like a few weeks
    and it really had nothing to do with all i really have to say