Текст песни Thought Industry — Jack Frost Junior

I) A Spacesuit Full of Urine; On the Orbiting City of Kalamazoo

This coffee tastes distorted. A swank fruitcake
contemptible martyr, because I will. The nitrogen is
fine. It delves in to hypothesis and says, 'young lad, so
mimical and used. You feel small. Simulated.
Advantageous.'

So they kick you when you're down, but I'm Jack
Frost's son anyhow. Wearing my red shoes out of the
wreck.

Chill the backseat in an icetray. Foreign plasma drifts
on ravished moonrays because I sit. Endorphin thinking
fine. Poison pens scribed circumflected. Self respected.

'Amen', said the spine. Bisect and leer. 'This diatribe
project through me and tear in.'

Englishman with Martian women, you crawl back like
your Monday couldn't 'cuz I still hold you trendy style.
Wave fake bills. Bloody miles and wars fifteen million
minutes through elation and truce in K-Zoo.

'The wedding reception went great, too bad about
the inflamed thyroglossal cyst.' - A Short Practice of Surgery