The Polaroid of perfection, demirep and stained with hate
well wounded I stuttle the crowd with my vogue lack of 
faith
the up and coming vendetta, the # vultures' extremes
spruce me up with a sweet little plaything, spruce me 
fucking supreme
I raise my craving hands, to the image of her promised 
land
the succulent teenage cunt, tempteth me to exeunt
story to tell
The absence of goals, the lack of control
the absence of aim and the present fame...
The absence of goals, the lack of control
everyone knows I should be extolled
the absence of aim and the present fame
everyone would sell their souls to play this game
...it's the game we play...