Napalm Death
Social Sterility
Time for my omittance, from a sterile existence
Where the weekend pays homage to stereotypical perpetuation

Must inebriate my senses into a state of delirium
Before I turn to the meatrack from my penile selection

Apathy spreads in unison with sexual disease
A scourge that infests the cattle markets of youth

Unconscious, just promiscuous
Deprived of self-respect
In the selling of their bodies
All emotions dead

Thoughts absorbed
Lost in sense of direction
It's time to sit down
And re-assess my course of action