The theater is crashing in it’s own damned stadium,

They prepare their battle song; Take a picture when they put their helmets on,

Strike a pose and don’t make a sound, shoot like models breaking codes of fantasy,

Like champagne the opera bubbles with it’s own obscene,

Speak words in verse, in time, in luxury,

Soak in the paste of bodies sliced by François chandeliers,

Badge of honour purple hearts draping from an alien,

Designation in a nation of jesters and fools, prepare to dance with me,

Show your goblets filled with haughty naughty feelings,

They don’t glisten like my teeth that rest inside you,

Take the body of mine you know is real, baptized in the name of May,

The time will come, but it won’t pay, hey, so bend over sleep over it doesn’t matter,

Your all the same crack in my dreams, took my lunch money and ate my fears,

Infidel whores you don’t know how I feel,

Ill leave you for brunch and suck you dry again my love you can only be mine.