I never said those things you buried
Of all the liars you'll be so cynical
The modern angel's so hard to come by
I hate to touch your stinking cur

I don't know what you've started saying now
Give me no conscience, can't listen to bodies
Stay low, lock the door
I know there's more than just an aching in store

I want a gun that's sexual
You wanted size
I'll give you a big tour
Big crane grabs your brain
Pain is a gas engages your force