Woorden: Every Time I Die. Pornogratheraphy.

Tonight the cinema's the treatment clinic where the perverts seek the cure.
Show me the rape scene one more time for the cause. And I promise we'll
behave like perfect christians. We'll sing the glory of the gospel for some
whiskey and a skin flick. Hallelujah. All rise. Hallow be my name. In this
kingdom we came without calling. Hallelujah. The violence and the choir, the
virgin and the fire. Up to her neck in tongues. Lovely, so lovely is Ludwig
Van. Electronic sonata pumped through the mud of one a night stand. The saints
in regalia whistling while they rape. Lid clamps in vitamins. Lift up her
skirt and I'll be cured, like a junkie with a methadone addiction thinks

he's clean. I'll be cured. I'll be cured. Sit down and watch closely. All these whores have
conceded the war. She said, "you might be sick, but you feel alright to me."
That's enough. Turn it off. I promise I'm better now. It's too much. Healed at the horror show.