forty four flies on leashes and you wonder why they act this way with a collar wrapped tight round their necks pulling down left one sole choice for a landing bay the flies on your face ain t leaving have an outstanding day with forty four knots in your hair fly swatting with the retarded fat cats catching prey forty four flies on leashes you wonder why they chat this way when the leather s wrapped tight round their necks chained down trying to use your face as a landing bay the flies in your mouth ain t moving have an outstanding stay with forty four pests in the air fly swatting like a tangled arachnid catching prey i am no mister miyage on a chopstick hype with a bowl full of insects i am not a part of your hotbed of rulebooks burn to a mountain of smouldering incest i m not equipped to pick wings off you lot and smear your remains on the wall like blood red warnings staining the halls of the paper mache cage made for you all nah are you buzzing dumb question rhetorical in part yet relevant to your six bruk legs and your saucepan of gurned up nights stewed down to the sediment scraped up sculpted and sold as a human second hand skin still delicate bought from an alleyway salesman the layers peeled off to reveal a disgusting development damn who laid these eggs in my eyes again if i boil them alive would you die for them your machinery can t turn flies to men best kill them on arrival then i ll be a drugged out mess when the cycle ends let these eyeballs wrinkle and crack till i wake one morn shrunk down on the ceiling to find four cellophane wings on my back like rah the skies kept flies on leashes and they wonder why we act this way with a collar wrapped tight round our necks pulling down left one dead town for a landing bay the flies at the gates ain t leaving have an outstanding day with the beggars and the drunks in a dump fly swatting like a retarded fat cat catching prey the skies kept flies on leashes and they wonder why we chat this way when the leather s wrapped tight round our necks chained down trying to use this city as a landing bay the flies on the ground ain t moving have an outstanding day with the mentally marred in a yard fly swatting with the drunken arachnids catching prey  i will not move when the sky pukes dark clouds billowing across false borders i will not morph to a tin man sobbing on a hand me down sket when the gods get nauseous i will not feed this obese gang of pigs with a singular slice of myself when my face thaws out and the icicles melt and the pavements finally felt the uncomfortable tickle of an insect dancing across a dark street with the inbreds marching slap that s another one pin him to the frame with the other ones ain t that charming wahgwan starlets gas fueled bastards picket sign punch bags hand made martyrs how s that revolution of yours moving limp fish swing for the steel piatas fly my pretties setting up camp in the rolls of fat in the belly of the city with a bowl of smack like a sundried prune with a soul attached fall prey to an infants thumb brain swelling in elastic skin till i wake one morn fully formed eyes golden and let them all buzz till the fat bitch sings i can sort of sense it all sweetening in hind sight regurgitated sugar faded pictures of the high life i told em peace peace slipped the razor out and sliced twice slash the leash leash i told them live fast and fly right yeah i told em live fast and fly right yeah i told em live fast and fly right i told em live fast and fly right slash the leash leash i told them live fast and fly right