"Rosacea"
:[ lyrics ]:
A trust of spectacles ridiculed with rust Filling up the jar the tightening is a must Silver lined gold parachutes Treating all as prostitutes One turn one look null space between Never will we speculate a monetary disease It sets them free So simple that gleam of the eye Trojan horse calming left here to die The cause for alarm is nothing less than true They will be used up before this is through Silky is the musk that wraps it self around The throat of the powerless We’re falling in mounds Such crimson cheeks they do warm hearts Skin of the greed choking on false starts So please keep this simple Keep me on my feet Without the due principle The soul is the meat