I’m macho, I’m femme
Call me they, call me them

Bikini boys in the summer scum want nothing and you and… scene
Thought rats scurry over hypnosis or what’s left of the friend chat
The scented of killers, the Eyes Of Mars, the seven blood gangs of the parietal

I’m liminal I’m free
Call me he, call me she
I said, I’m macho I’m femme
Call me they, call me them
In this place one way or another you’re gonna get radicalized
Ohm but my lives, they’re unreal, those things are only a spectacle

Thorns are cool, thorns save lives, thorns get me into trouble but I always survive
In a circle of one
Sounding a drum
To a body song, what can I say?
It’s gonna happen either way
Like a Burroughs to Capote curse
Written in a rabid free verse
If you fillet the crown’s prick
You run afoul of the Syndicate
Oh, smart kids say no
Disabusing crow drones
What could they possibly glean out of a liar’s mind?
Thorns are cool, thorns save lives, thorns get me into trouble but I always survive
Still it’s not a lot of fun dealing with truscum in a circle of one
And a body song, what can I say, it’s gonna happen either way
Now you got no brain how do you get fucked up? What?
Now you got no brain how do you get fucked up?
Now you got no brain how do you get fucked up? What?
Now you got no brain how do you get fucked up?