Hara-kiri kids come kill yourselves   Slice your throats and spurt the blood   Paint a wall cloud weather cell   A vortex of self   Put your tongue in the mouth of the old funnel cloud, adel      I have become pregnant with myself   Bloated bellies distended out like corpses sweat and swell   We fucked ourselves   We let our thighs fall to each side of the cyclone they sell      And there will be no pie graphs or charts to speak of   No slogans for the repeating   No silver bullet was shot   No hand over heart, no X marks the spot   No catchphrase for stars a feignin'   No big letter writing campaign   No fanfare fills up the room   No interviews, no big kaboom      The fruit is falling 'cause the tree is rotting, my dear   You were a good mare for the state   But you're no longer needed here   Go back to your coup   So I can chop off my head as an act of contrition for you      I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows   When the shit goes down, we're gonna turn this thing around   I'll keep tying my shoes, 'cause there's no telling when you...   everybody now! We're gonna turn this thing around      I sleep in my clothes, 'cause nobody knows   If it will touch down, we're gonna turn this thing around   I'll keep tying my shoes, 'cause there's no telling when you...   everybody now!!! Everybody now!!!      The whistling, winding trees, the boiling of the seas   We know what you are   The hum of coming trains, the connection we can't maintain   We know what you are, we know what you are