The Ecstatic Static

The pimp's going round extinguishing the flamme
Digging the tranches in which to bury hearts
The dim and cold climate of awarness
Where the reptiles thrive and people are made to walk the streets

This heat, the purpose, in my heart, generates, infinite, energy
there's nothing to worry, share the immensity

He went round switching the people's heart's off, promising to deal with reality
we bought it, because everything seemed more bearable than immensity