Fame Throwa

Fame throwa pass out the gold, the diamond Watch, the last reward, all the things we had Before you sold us out and took it all Head-borne cries from zenith sluts, astral Rites from dead-end ruts These kids are sick-end wars "One of the nation's spies One of our first recruits Click with her leather thighs One of our first recruits" How can you know? In the distance lies A grower, nee rode off, king fame throwa Son of groupie, red-worn sexan, spent his Cash convincing us that the desert was A starscape and sold our lives for a Satellite so we could cry "Naked, naked foul"