CLEANING PRODUCTS (11/10/95)

CLEANING PRODUCTS (11/10/95)

Is it just a twist of consequence?
A taming of my shrew?
It kneed my crotch that stomach punch thought
The cold of fear still new
As my gut swells up my throat
And froths my words to thick
Is it existential nausea?
Or just that knowledge makes you sick?
And all my plans were foiled
Oh, how it brightened up my day
Of all the cut that I have boiled
It seems that I’m the black I could not cook away
If fear is just paranoia
Then why the different names?
Which hunt is the witch-hunt?
Should I throw my books into the flames?
Cause’ it is all forbidden knowledge
And that is something that I know
Not heads or tails, good or evil, just high then fucking low
Just pleasant under glass
A peasant to that meal
As Karma ricochets past
It seems that time that I was wasting was the time I needed to heal.