When You Live As A Boy

The minister of health and youth sends his son to sell 
crack he gets the profit,
the son gets the crap
Here, where the mothers are pimps blackmail daughters to 
sell smack
to the judge and to the priest.
You play a game like a cricket in the garden of blood
"And when you live as a boy you better shut your mouth
Or when you live as a boy you give them a scent of blood or
 they break your neck"
Literature is dead because you know everything about death 
anyway.
Hearts are firegutted hooks tar benzoel and murder-oxide.
Fire's our blood
The minister of law and order is dancing on our grave. And 
rave!
Decade of rottening nicely and self-enjoyable.
The mothers of courage try to play their role in perfection
 but their seats are cheap
and the lodge is empty anyway.
Masonic lies hang like cobwebs from a celling of baroque 
stucco
sometimes angry young men climb up and hang on ceiling 
peeing on the lodge's chairs
buy they are empty anyway.