I often see myself lying in a bed of rats,
Lute by my side; I play to entertain the fact.
[In this room there is no such thing as time.]
I've swallowed the sun once or twice,
the taste is bitter and stale.
But once you fight for what you know is right,
you can't afford to fail.
So, in time, I'll skin graph the earth
all to see what would emerge,
And feed it back into the vacant eyes of lust.