Pleasure

Take it away they don´t know what they mean,
are they goodless again self-policed in their sleep,
only to know where to bury the dead,
while they all waste away living in misery.
Pleasure and pleasure is all that one seeks,

until the blood is poisoned and weak.
Swarnie Christ, now you talk in your sleep,
whit those eyes full of hate, where the blossom is cold,
on the last bike stolen by the poor of the earth,
where the tongue meets its mark, now it's time to ignore.
Deception identity root in the sea,
until the blood is poisoned and weak.
Pleasure and Pleasure is all that they seek,
in a heartbroken world that is poison and week,
with the lavish flesh and their carcass of greed,
and a poisonous touch seeking pleasure in me.