Pa**age - In the Bioburbs lyrics

Under the hood, the coldwater pump Lets the Monkey angels get us sick, Our flying flees and millipedes Read our white count And screen for the bug The old fashioned physician treated bumps and bruises Not hungry with tube feeding, But the new slumber party Cancer can't keep its solids down We watch saints of popularity, rail thin snack on their Hollow legs. The hairless pairs of replicas dance and gossip, While at their feet are fighting fish, The upper half is pressing Flesh-some compaign of the neurotic black heart, A vomit Competition. The autograph is a lap dance from the grammaphone No one will touch Their priorities bruised, and without memory They had to start turning away the ghosts Of ignored parents like the old men who work the vending machines Who've only asked to use the toilet Plastic dresses ath the biotech frontier tonight, The pigeons are Continuous, their feathers burn toxic. The medicine animal is A misfit to the drum, Desperate to duplicate the whimper like a snapshot. Genetic jennies sip white zin and choose wallpaper For the first boy crossbred with a sneaker's new nursery, To sit Amidst change, a speak 'n' spell in his heart, Soon pacemakers Will be able to run for president, Or any creature with the proper papers, Until Detroit machinists, our laureates of the chariot... Jesus Chrysler, cut me a break, Lay off the feelings and the spiders in the sink And leave a depression in the wild, A missing man without A car alarm Stuck in his knee or a pager in his palm.