Lyrics
And thats the story of my religion,
now seventeen acres of land stand between me,
and my armenian brothers with knives in the kitchen,
always droning on about the problem in yorkton,
they dont know what its like to be a real artist,
they've got delusions in their head,
they think they can file thier tax books without a pencil,
and still have to time in for audio cassete day at Mervins,
i dont think any of them understand art in its purest form,
in its purest form you can see it trickled down the waterway,
and murder small children while they sleep,
dreaming about sugar, candy and all those gay things,
they all think these shoes are so big,
well my shoes are a size seventeen,
thats much bigger than their shoes,
and still they brag on and on,
and they run in the playsets,
all oblivious to the fact that i can kill them and rape them anytime,
god i love the way children feel,
i love the way they suckle my teets,
i once had seventeen cats,
and they all had supernatural powers,
all of them could see in the dark,
and see into my soul,
see into the dark oblivious chasm of pain and agony that is my soul,
and to know, to be free is to be able to be dead,
they know nothing of true catastrophe,
true catastrophe is a ruthless strike on humanity,
you'd love to see it wouldn't you?
you'd love to see the people run into the ocean,
in fear of the flames that dance above thier heads,
you'd love to see them burn alive,
you'd love to see them holding babies while they burn,
and let the baby melt onto them,
in a weird human/baby clone,
melted on fire,
you'd love to see that,
because to see that would be able to understand art in its purest form,
art, is agony...
