Degenerate Lyrics

The thought that hurt: you'll be part of the dirt
Disease could kill. And it probably will, and so avoiding decay, stay alive with a pill. A collection of atoms, in decay, smearing dirt all on your church clothes. Digested, organized food turning into dirt. I'm not sticking around. The thought might bend; just pretend: It's not going to end. Appearance. Social intercourse. Energy man, drilling real deep, you'll be buying our sleep. A million years to make. A half an hour to destroy. Cholesterol level is high- while the stuff of future life is destroyed with a sigh. Disintegration.
Disorientation.
Degeneration.
De-evolution.
Disorganization.
Death.