You'll Wish You Were Me

Sun ravaged skin removed
Pent up remission
Stuck on a pike and lulled to sleep

My friends lie full and barbed inane
In no one's name
In no one's name
I ride the tail
Flowing down
I make my name
In no one's name

And walk for miles
My son weeps
On a table and I say
No!
It's not real!
I am not here and
Art is dead!

Atrophy only gets me off
Cut your body up
Clean in the end
Haute bourgeoisie concern!
I am no longer burdened

And I walk for miles
On this table
Weeping as the knife is drawn
Screaming
Art is dead!

Art is dead!