teeth.  Bleeding skies, sulpher mines... The foul breath of Satan's favorite
gutter worm.  You feel me when I'm close - an ice wind of steel stilettos
hammered in your spine.  Quicksilver nausea spinning, spewing forth and
everything's a mess.  every posession you ever had - wrecked - lying at your
feet.  Telegrams that tell you God is dead piled high on the TV.  The
incessant TV.  Burbling.  Distorted.  A cheesecake nun advertising 20 brands
of sea cow lemon shit in 60 different languages.  A gargoyle handjives for
the hard of hearing.  Subliminals.  Criminals.  Phoney buisinessmen in thick
rimmed glasses.  Bad comedians.  Laughing bags aping the Hallelujah chorus -
the forgotton version - out of key (slightly).  Just enough to annoy you.
My flavor is cheap perfume on rotting Man-Ray maggots!  Dead maggots.  My
flavor's a wound re-opening by surprise, green fishes eyes flowing out.
Wriggling things.  Gelatinous.  Still alive and screaming - out of key
(slightly).  Just enough to annoy you.  My flavor's a plunging elevator a
millisecond before it hits the cellar.  A cellar with mutated rats.  Old -
very old - lost teeth.  Abortions.  Garbage.  So pungent it hums - out of
key (slightly).  Just enough to annoy you.  My flavor's your flavor.  Deep
within you.  Hidden.  Waiting to get out