If anything could open my heart
Then it'd be a broken machine
Concealed by an electric mask
And a seventy-five inch screen
The pain of standing on the Earth is worse than being eaten alive
When I open my eyes
I wanna go blind
So Brandon stapled his brain chemistry to a scrap of sheet metal
At the intersection of Space Street and Illusion Avenue
And flung himself into the force of the traffic
As he pissed his last pair of blue jeans and screamed
"I'm ready for the die-off
Are you ready for the die-off?"
If anything could open my heart
Then it'd be a butcher's knife
I'd sell my heart at the butcher mart
And then I'm goin' on a hunger strike
I'll protest the consumption of human meat by not eating anything
I'll go totally mad
So Robin ran the entire length
Width and height of Manhattan in a matter of minutes
To deliver dollar pizza to her grandma
This narcissistic chronicler
Of caffeinated capitalist deliciousness reports
You can cure your lust for chronic insomnia when you're dead
New York's ready for the die-off
Are you ready for the die-off?
If anything could open my heart
Then it'd be a thunderstorm
Paralysis Alice in the palace of the phallus told me
She would rather have never been born
Plants, animals, yellow jackets on crack
It's a tragic universe
And then there's humans
So one day I cut off all seventy-four of my fingers
In a strange exchange for a slap in the face
Ghosts entered my apartment
Took up space
Hadn't eaten or slept or felt the weight of the world
yet they stood, like wood at my door
And screamed
"Get ready for the die-off
Better get ready for the die-off
Better get ready for the die-off
The die-off"
