Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the shed,
what a painful horror story, for your little head,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do you persist with such a dangerous bloody path?
There can be an escape, only if you choose,
puppet master’s shadow; is a place where you will lose,
to bathe in such instruction, fills a hollow pride,
where every single wholesome dream is told to be a lie.
Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the shed,
what a painful horror story, for your little head,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do you persist with such a dangerous bloody path?
Your body’s like a road map, imaginary whips,
champagne corks are popping, as your essence drips,
a wondrous writ sensation, I’m sure you will agree,
as you’re the one who writes it, so emphatically.
Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the shed,
what a painful horror story, for your little head,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do you persist with such a dangerous bloody path?
The rules and opposition, the habit of our kind,
we say that we are beautiful, though operation’s blind,
scoring the appalling, sleeping sound in bed,
snoring and ignoring, enjoying being dead.
Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the sheds,
what a painful horror story, for our little heads,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do we persist with such a dangerous bloody path?