Germs.

Refried cigarette butts, toothpaste and cologne.

Eu Du Toilet.

Your hand is in my pocket,

Always begging for change,

When the night comes,

You retreat to the moon,

Simply begging for a dream.

Gunthroat requests,

I’m a little uneasy.

Do you think the moon has a treatment for me?

I won’t shed a tear.

You say, “I want you to die,”

So I said, “Me too.”

Regardless of the demos,

And the hardened pop souls,

I think I’m giving birth.

I took the cure tonight,

Will this pill save my soul?

With pharmaceuticals,

Who needs religion?

I can live forever if I use beauty creams,

And magic protein elixirs.

You wave your magic wand,

And the ugly duckling,

Becomes,

A bikini clad swan.

In the middle of a bath,

You played The End.