The Ecstatic Static

The pimp's going round extinguishing the flame

Digging the tranches in which to bury hearts

The dim and cold climate of awareness

Where the reptiles thrive and people are made to walk the streets

This heat, the purpose, in my heart, generates, infinite, energy there's nothing to worry, share the immensity

He went round switching the people's hearts off, promising to deal with reality

We bought it, because everything seemed more bearable than immensity