Church of the Self / The State of Impure Thoughts Lyrics

Your stinging sensations register as my kind of warm and sore.
Watch me do my whole life in seconds flat.
Ride hard and die longing for more.
Feels like a choir of Possessed drug fiends are trapped inside my skull, moaning like a castle of dying rats.
Still I can only trust the one pathetic emasculated and coaming voice of the birthmark.
Strangely reminding my pathetic sense of self worth of a great, black as sky, and vacant cross of hostility and insanity,
Oh confusing nightmare - my church of the self in the sate of my impurest thoughts.
Nude in public thinking, deafened in untrained restraint,
It's feeding me black paranoia where the senseless exchange ill candor and godless worship.
My disjointed, evil woman disease on the state of my impurest of thought.
Feels like a choir of Possessed drug fiends are trapped inside my skull,
Moaning like a castle of dying rats.
Still I can only trust the one pathetic emasculated and coaming voice of the birthmark.
Strangely reminding my pathetic sense of self worth of a great, black as sky, and vacant cross of hostility and insanity,
Oh confusing nightmare - my church of the self in the sate of my impurest thoughts.
Nude in public thinking, deafened in untrained restraint,
It's feeding me black paranoia where the senseless exchange ill candor and godless worship.
My disjointed, evil woman disease on the state of my impurest of thought.