Enslavement Of Beauty - I Raise My Craving Hands lyrics

The Polaroid of perfection, demirep and stained with hate Well wounded I stuttle the crowd with my vogue lack of faith The up and coming vendetta, the # vultures' extremes Spruce me up with a sweet little plaything, spruce me f**ing supreme I raise my craving hands, to the image of her promised land The succulent teenage c*nt, tempteth me to exeunt Wish me well, wish me hell...all I ever wanted was a story to tell The absence of goals, the lack of control The absence of aim and the present fame... The absence of goals, the lack of control Everyone knows I should be extolled The absence of aim and the present fame Everyone would sell their souls to play this game ...it's the game we play...