Boys: Shoot to thrill from the hip. It`s time we put the "act" in action. We`ve tricked the pigs into thinking that this auction is a pageant. In no time there will be makeup on our new set of cutlery. The livestock is star struck. They`re all salivating like ravenous cartoons. Goddamn animal. You`d better watch where you spit. Squeal like soft music. If it helps, we`ll dim the lights on the floor. Neon bulbs are the cosmetics of swine. Everybody looks quite dazzling, trussed up in there formal attire. You`d make a great secret if i could keep you, but we all spill out guts. We`re locked and loaded. Drip fed and bloated. Our trigger fingers snagged in the mouse trap of the moment. Turn the lights off on us, like a moth left in the cold. In the dark, begging for more. When the urgency strikes, you`d better not lose your nerve. It`s the rush that the cockroaches get at the end of the world. It`s alright. There`s a pail by the bed if you need it (but you`re doing just fine). When in Rome we shall do a the Romans, when in Hell we do shots at the bar. Last call, kill it. We don`t think in terms of mornings afters and we don`t utter a single word of the night befores. In the meantime we`re just thoughtless incessant buzzing aparatus. Disillusioned and lonelier than the last man stading. It doesn`t get any better than this so run like hell. This is a rock and roll takeover. Living each day one night at a time. There were mercy fucks, there was blood. You should have been there by my side. This is passion, this is red handed denial. I have no lover and she hasn`t the prettiest eyes. Last call, kill it.
