I know you’ve been afraid
you know I’ve been betrayed,
but Romeo’s got keys
to play our CDs.
With your head as big as a flower
they’ll rip it off in a half hour,
they’ll step on your face
they’ll crush it in grapes
turn us into vigne-hills
and smash our vinyls,
so hey, let’s ask Jeez:
«play our CDs!»,
let’em bite His cross
or chew our doors,
‘cause Psyche has a disease
she’ll play our CDs.
We’re now going south
we’re entering their MOUTH
but Anger has wings
to play our CDs.
—MMOUTH
