Rotted Kissing You With My Fists
I sit and stare
Haven’t got a prayer
Anticipating a future filled with despair
Deep underground
Amongst the crowd
A hateful venom of which I am proud
Kissing you with my fists
Spurred on by these sounds
Composure found
By these restraints no longer am I bound
Like those before
Also implored
To eradicate those that they too abhor
Kissing you with my fists
This urge to fight within me starts to spread
Subliminal messages infect my head
Songs of Weeping and The Hamburger Lady
And Myra Hindley and Ian Brady
Throbbing Gristle will make me assault mankind
An audio weapon, a hate intensified
It’s them
To blame
Not me
Kissing you with my fists
Amongst the crowd
On London’s Underground
Listening still, I sit and stare them out
Pulling to my stop
This is where I get off
Leaving behind my fantasy of those who get the chop
Kissing you with my fists
