My finances are screwed,
Not just covered in boils and scabs,
But coated with plague – my idea,
Because if we’re gonna get it on,
We’re gonna get it on hardcore,
Like you’ve never seen,
You posture your chastity,
Barely seen through skeins hung
In an open window frame,
Framed there,
Parakeet sings sweet in the darkness behind you,
First, I’m a-gonna strangle that winged rat,
Then it’s gonna go up the darkness behind you.