* When you hand me over to your leaders drain the blood before the burning. The beat down starts at those greed-stained, hazy, desperate, love-locked cretins. Here to tell you that the act of being noble has gotten passe. One time, one time to show them my delight for plaguing symptoms. I know that I'm pathetic. I know now that we've dressed flowers we can beg that this scene be cleansed, blessed and forgotten. These art-punk, rich fucks never saw the sense and it gets harder to stay. I know we're pathetic.