You wake up deadmen

With your loose sex 

You shout at them, C'mon 

And as they fumble in half-delirium 

You smash them back down dead 

With a thud 

Or drain them dry and throw them aside like an empty bottle 

Always keeping them as a collector 

In a nearby trash barrel 

Unless they completely break 

And are fortunate enough to be swept away 

And you, all knowing handler 

You heartlessly say 

You don't know me, you don't know 

And we turn further to the grave 

More lost than ever before 

Unless some unknown force 

And even then that island is an enigma (?) 

And they long for the trash barrel 

And your scathing rebuke 

Ah you knew them well 

Before you consulted the night 

And their dreary ways 

Your instinct is the truest thing 

Your hate is the staunchest foe 

Your queen bee love leaves a lot to be desired 

Take it from a friend