The Laundry Room. (27 Forever)

The evil cat wants to meow
Grass monster wants to be happy
I want neongirl to fall
And it brings me to the puke
The green cucumber shines again
Cold winter snow freezes the snowman
Chilly he is and we're covered in grass
The colors eat the thought away
Sick and feverish he is

Nostalgia bites away
My brain is on false
Near the laundry room
All the memories came through
And I thought of the door that we spat
I ate the rat
I can't make sense
But I want the 27 happy
And I'm tumbling into the room
Got the October fever
And she swoons
She falls far to gloom
And I want her closetroom

I want them to fool themselves
And keep us in a job
I want them to wrong themselves
So I can think happy
My soul yearns for the laundry room
Got the smell for the old memory
Give it a thought and my entire mind rots
My soul needs the laundry room
I want a neongirl
I want thought that came to me
It seems lame to she
The laundry room reeks but it stinks good

I wish it was all like that
Now it's all different
Perfect clarity pitch brain
It felt bad now it remembers good
Discoball kill will make us all satisfied
I think I'll learn to read
Then I'll be all satisfied
Now I found the door to the laundry room
I can crawl into the empty laundry machine
Find my way into the laundry room door
Tumbling tumbling I will soar
I will fall and then my mind came.

(warmth radiates from steady beat)

the cold, the trance, welcome it
and the trance neongirl sings
her voice is sex
talking to make prudes
the polite one is now rude
and now we get dirty
on the clean tiles
teenagers spawn maturity
but then our revolution plays
and there's this one girl
she gooes ooh
and what she moans is what
love teenagers mosh to angst rhythm
this resides in me
this is what i feel in you

complaint hate.

she was a flare
burned my brain
like an aneurysm
scorched earth campaign
now i breathe for the neongirl

drop your neuron into the bucket
pour oil for science, make it float
when we eat dirt we'll gloat
make a shallow moat of the black melt
tingles the nerve sensations
the lack of oxygen
in tar she wrote

all that you want is you
attention seeking brat are we?
all that we abhore
inflate and our pride will soar
lump in your throat, gotta swallow the arsenic
get past, the radioactive metal i lick