Women's Studies Victims

They had painted her face like a man's mistake

Gangbanging the sad return to the eagle-shaped mirror

I'm the kind of mannequin that that cheats and opens its eyes

To the ladies of the spread

She took me home then spit in my drink

She spoke of Germaine Greer and Friedan

I don't know what to think

I took her standing in the kitchen

Ass against the sink

She draped me in a stole (what kind?)

I think Malaysian mink

And threw me out into the snow

I waited for a bus

oh come some values, photos screaming, are you one of us?

I said, "of course man, can't you see i've got some text reconstruction?"

(What does that mean?) No clue

It must be illicit pentagram

(What are you talking about?) No clue

I check my shutter speed, my aperture, my domino

Can't focus, can't stop staring at the face I used to know

This life is not a prison we are always free to go

Anytime

Chinese stars, Chinese stars, Chinese stars

Chinese stars

I'm trying to interphase

You met me at such a dismal point on the arc

I think I understand what you were saying

About the smiles, of the skulls

This spastic face was the last one

Our luck was white

I read it with my head open, or only slightly cracked

Somebody else will have to close it when I'm done

And make the most out of the visuals

While walking through the wood

I notice someone has built a house for no bird in particular

They want to destroy us (I know)

It's time to penetrate their fantasy