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We explore the mens room.

We dont give a shit.

Ladies lost electricity;

Take vows inside of it.



Desire to dance;

Too startled to try.

Wrap my legs round you,

Starting to fly.



Lets explore

Up there, up there, up there,

On the twenty-fifth floor.



Circle all around me,

Coming for the kill, kill, kill

Oh kill me baby

Like a kamikaze

Heading for a spill.

Oh but its all spilt milk to me.



Desire to dance;

Too startled to try.

Wrap my legs round you,

Starting to fly.



Lets soar

Up there, up there, up there,

On the twenty-fifth floor.



We do not eat

Flower of creation.

We do not eat,

Eat anything at all.

Love is, love was, love is a manifestation.

Im waiting for a contact to call.

Loves war. loves cruel.

Loves pretty, loves pretty cruel tonight.

Im waiting here to refuel.

Im gonna make contact tonight.

Love in my heart.

The night to exploit.

Twenty-five stories over detroit,

And theres more

Up there, up there, up there.



Stoned in space. zeus. christ. it has always been rock and so it is and so it shall be. within the context of neo rock we must open up our eyes and seize and rend the veil of smoke which man cal

Der. pollution is a necessary result of the inability of man to reform and transform waste.

The transformation of waste

The transformation of waste

The transformation of waste

The transformation of waste is perhaps the oldest pre-occupation of man. man being the chosen alloy, he must be reconnectedvia shit, at all cost. inherent with(in) us is the dream of the task

E alchemist to create from the clay of man. and to re-create from excretion of man pure and then soft and then solid gold.



All must not be art. some art we must disintegrate.

Positive (anarchy must exist.)



In background:

(I feel it swirling around me

I feel it feeling no pain

Im waiting above for you baby

I know that Ill see you up there

Im floating in a door backward

On boundaries over this world

Im waiting above in the sky, dear

Upon a [ ] ...)







----------------------------------------------------





High on rebellion

What I feel when Im playing guitar is completely cold and crazy, like I dont owe nobody nothing and its just a test just to see how far I can relax into the cold wave of a note. when everythi

Ts just right (just and right) the note of nobility can go on forever. I never tire of the solitary e and I trust my guitar and I dont care about anything. sometimes I feel like Ive broken thr

And Im free and I could dig into eternity into eternity riding the wave and realm of the e. sometimes its useless. here I am struggling and filled with dreadafraid that Ill never squeeze en

Graphite from my damaged cranium to inspire or asphyxiate any eyes grazing like hungry cows across the stage or page. inside of me Im crazy Im just crazy. inside I must continue. I see her, my

F muse, jutting around round round round like a broken speeding statue. the colonial year is dead and the greeks too are finished. the face of alexander remains not only solely due to sculpture

Hrough the power and foresig

Ht and magnetism of alexander himself. the artist must maintain his swagger. he must he must he must be intoxicated by ritual as well as result. look at me I am laughing. I am laughing. I am lap

Cocaine from the hard brown palm of the bouncer. and I trust my guitar. therefore we black out together. therefore I would run through scum. and scum is just ahead, ah we see it, but we just lau

Ere ascending through the hollow mountain. we are peeking. we are laughing. we are kneeling. we are laughing. we are radiating at last. this rebellion is just a gas our gas a gas that we pass.

We explore the mens room.

We dont give a shit.

Ladies lost electricity;

Take vows inside of it.



Desire to dance;

Too startled to try.

Wrap my legs round you,

Starting to fly.



Lets explore

Up there, up there, up there,

On the twenty-fifth floor.



Circle all around me,

Coming for the kill, kill, kill

Oh kill me baby

Like a kamikaze

Heading for a spill.

Oh but its all spilt milk to me.



Desire to dance;

Too startled to try.

Wrap my legs round you,

Starting to fly.



Lets soar

Up there, up there, up there,

On the twenty-fifth floor.



We do not eat

Flower of creation.

We do not eat,

Eat anything at all.

Love is, love was, love is a manifestation.

Im waiting for a contact to call.

Loves war. loves cruel.

Loves pretty, loves pretty cruel tonight.

Im waiting here to refuel.

Im gonna make contact tonight.

Love in my heart.

The night to exploit.

Twenty-five stories over detroit,

And theres more

Up there, up there, up there.



Stoned in space. zeus. christ. it has always been rock and so it is and so it shall be. within the context of neo rock we must open up our eyes and seize and rend the veil of smoke which man cal

Der. pollution is a necessary result of the inability of man to reform and transform waste.

The transformation of waste

The transformation of waste

The transformation of waste

The transformation of waste is perhaps the oldest pre-occupation of man. man being the chosen alloy, he must be reconnectedvia shit, at all cost. inherent with(in) us is the dream of the task

E alchemist to create from the clay of man. and to re-create from excretion of man pure and then soft and then solid gold.



All must not be art. some art we must disintegrate.

Positive (anarchy must exist.)



In background:

(I feel it swirling around me

I feel it feeling no pain

Im waiting above for you baby

I know that Ill see you up there

Im floating in a door backward

On boundaries over this world

Im waiting above in the sky, dear

Upon a [ ] ...)







----------------------------------------------------





High on rebellion

What I feel when Im playing guitar is completely cold and crazy, like I dont owe nobody nothing and its just a test just to see how far I can relax into the cold wave of a note. when everythi

Ts just right (just and right) the note of nobility can go on forever. I never tire of the solitary e and I trust my guitar and I dont care about anything. sometimes I feel like Ive broken thr

And Im free and I could dig into eternity into eternity riding the wave and realm of the e. sometimes its useless. here I am struggling and filled with dreadafraid that Ill never squeeze en

Graphite from my damaged cranium to inspire or asphyxiate any eyes grazing like hungry cows across the stage or page. inside of me Im crazy Im just crazy. inside I must continue. I see her, my

F muse, jutting around round round round like a broken speeding statue. the colonial year is dead and the greeks too are finished. the face of alexander remains not only solely due to sculpture

Hrough the power and foresig

Ht and magnetism of alexander himself. the artist must maintain his swagger. he must he must he must be intoxicated by ritual as well as result. look at me I am laughing. I am laughing. I am lap

Cocaine from the hard brown palm of the bouncer. and I trust my guitar. therefore we black out together. therefore I would run through scum. and scum is just ahead, ah we see it, but we just lau

Ere ascending through the hollow mountain. we are peeking. we are laughing. we are kneeling. we are laughing. we are radiating at last. this rebellion is just a gas our gas a gas that we pass.

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