The baby sits in front of MTV watching violent fantasies, while Dad guzzles beer with his favorite sport only to find his heroes all coked up.
Herpes, AIDS, the Middle East at full throttle. Better check that sausage before you put it in the waffle.
As the dead rise to live, the live sink to die, the currents are deep and raging inside.
I don’t like overdubs, never liked them.
Perfect Night is minimalistic and that’s what makes it so forceful.
What I really love is my scotch. It’s the power, the power of positive drinking.
Why don’t you swallow razor blades?
I like druggy downtown kids who spray paint walls and trains. I like their lack of training, their primitive technique. I think it hurts you, when you stay too long in school.
Writhe and sway to music’s pain searing with asides, caress death with a lover’s touch for it shall be your bride.
When he beat my mother it made me so mad.
The sickness of the mother runs on through the girl, leaving her small and helpless. Liquor flies through her brain with the force of a gun, leaving her running in circles.
The rich son waits for his father to die, the poor just drink and cry.
I’ve made love to my mother, killed my father, and my brother. What am I to do?
I wanna hear some Diana Ross, I wanna hear some Marvin Gaye. I wanna hear a song that reminds me of a better day.
The currents rage so deep upon us, this is the age of video violence.
Kill them now, cause I need some kicks. I need some kicks, I’m getting bored.
It’s the music that kept us all intact, kept us from going crazy.
I would like to live to a ripe old age and raise watermelons in Wyoming.
You won’t see my parents honored on any stamps.
I’m too old to do things by half.