Production

This man
May have a shitload
To prove
He's got to settle a score
Against the groove
Infinite orgasm
Like endless joy and pain
Thunder to my ears
Like a holy rain
An aural wall of waking
Awash in purple paint
And a digging
Of the flowers in your yard
Electric rays of healing
Intensify the feeling of hatred
Towards the things you say
I ain't
Fear a man-child
His soul and semen
Pathetic thoughts he thinks
Forever
Heard you caused a landslide
Walking home
Soon slide the man-child
Under your coat
Product of your generation
Product of your masturbation
Product of a master plan
Product of a holy man
Product of infanticide
Product of decaying minds
Product of mass corruption
The product
And its production