Thoughts of sex and death, told by a million before.
Leave me paralysed, ecstatic: in raptures on the floor.
Everything's just for a shag, or maybe to ignore the drag,
of death death death.
hidden in the brown leaves, in the suburban whirlwind,
in the totality of Realtiy TV, and changing your life before it's too late.
And these thoughts are more distinct with every new sensation.
With each grain of knowledge, discovered in succumbing to temptation.
As beauty becomes defined against a backdrop of sheer nothing,
As I approach the end,
And the sun rises.
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