death of the form our dreams would have attained

death of the will, desire and dismay

like a nazi mith of red eternal youth

'till nothing is what you think of

pop kills your soul

just like everything else does

we fancied and we expected, we are all the same

and we all get so banal, and we all making the same talks

'bout years of collapsing we missunderstend

leaking down through my hands

pop kills your soul...as everything else has done

I'm seven years old, listen to the song

you were a yeti whoman hairy fierce and lone

I 'member the rage your face disintegrated

and the fear that I would not ehy! hate it

pop kills your soul...as everything else has done



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