I'm a computer generated image flashing on a screen lean and mean and obscene
Douse me in gasoline and kerosene
Strike a match and watch me go up in a ball of flame and shame and blame and nothing remains but coals and ashes and a couple of burnt matches
Sweep the dust into a dustpan
Toss it in the trashcan
Carry it out and bury it in a hole in the ground
Seep down in the brown ground
My methods are unsound
I've found it's terribly, terribly easy to get ground down
Ground down into dust
Watch it go bust seeping into the crust in a pile of lust and pus and mistrust
I'd cuss but it wouldn't make a fuck of a lot of difference,
Why all this insistence that everything make sense
A place for everything and everything in its place
Can't even look into the face of your enemy and see the humanity
Are we bound for calamity?
On a collision course with destiny?
Is this thing getting the best of me?
Or do you want to burn the rest of me?