Oh I feel it, I feel so low
Reaction sees itself in burning blazing gold
Waiting in the corners on the boaters where the boyfriends all sink low
And all my hands can do
Is fold themselves in the valleys
In the corridors, in the ceilings over you
Oh in the kitchen where my Beatrice sweats her glow
Reaction sets itself today when I run home
Where's the keeper of a photon daytime sleeper
And all my hands are us
The frozen song that calls upon the blessed bus
Ao cry and whine while guest speakers sink into brine
I'm the sendup of a hallowed tradition true
So I honor thy friends, they are just bends
In a slapstrick tradition, loyalty bends
Under the shadow of an empire's true
Eat your Russian berries, eat them in the monastery
And its all that I can do
You better hold tight because even cancer needs a home
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