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