Hey there man,
let’s stitch those sorry veins up,
don’t you know there’s riches waiting to steal?

There’s no time to waste,
apply this Boudicca paste,
let’s head to Leningrad; I’ll take the wheel.

With Ostrogothic shields,
we’ll smash through Celtic battlefields.
Drink this up real quick and
sign on the dotted line.

Don’t you want to be somebody special?
Don’t you want the whole world under your thumb?
Don’t you want to party without any heed for virtue?
Don’t you want to carry on the Mongol run?
Don’t you want a million, hapless harems
to wrap their legs around your lonely nights?
Don’t you want a brand, new Wagyu beef body
to protect your right to destroy, decimate, conquer, fuck and fight?

Hey there man,
I’ve got a Yournameistan,
waiting for you to rule as you wish.

I’ll be your ancient bloodline,
you’ll be my tongue and eyes,
we’ll cook plebeians, my favourite dish.
Release the coins and smoke
and taste the acid as you choke.
Raising hell up to heaven,
fulfilling every desire.

Don’t you want to tear down Rome and Venus?
Don’t you want a swag like Jesse James?
Don’t you want to rock this bitch like Genghis Khan,
razing continents and blowing out brains?
Don’t you want a statue carved in every city?
Don’t you want a million miles paved with the heads
of every stupid motherfucker who ever dared
to cross the right hand of death?

Noble Cicero’s speech has declared you impeached,
I’m afraid it’s too late for your family.
Come take a walk on the plank,
I’ll trade your guts for my shank
and smear your insides all over history.

My friend, you’ve served us well.
You have earned your place in hell.
You can keep your pain,
you’ve nothing left to sell.

Don’t you want to prove yourself to your mother?
Don’t you want to smother the voices inside?
Don’t you want to ride on the backs of apostles?
Don’t you want to make them beg for their lives?
Don’t you want your very own Colosseum?
Don’t you want to set the Argo alight?
Don’t you want to build a tower of Babel
made of your spoils of war,
just before dying a coward’s death?

This is mass self-laceration,
this is holy consummation.
This is rapture’s ovulation,
this is bourgeoisie stagnation.

This is phallic colonisation,
this is masturbatory arbitration.
This is cultural redesecration,
this is hyperinflating radiation.

This is pestilent ego augmentation,
this is post-Socratic fetishisation.
This is suicide’s self-preservation,
this is 11th hour degeneration.

This is universal Vietnamisation,
this is spiritual deforestation.

This trial by fornication,
it’s a party situation.
This trial by fornication,
it’s a party situation.

This trial by fornication,
it’s a party situation.
This trial by fornication,
it’s a party situation.