Vincent Vocoder Voice - You're Gonna Die Slow (Von Trier's Beggars) lyrics

The woods are peering into my house. Mephistopheles checking in on his Faust. And the distant screams of the birds and bees Make the maggots to move in my cavities And the cloud of worms following me round Lick at the bottom of my shoes as I tread the ground. Checking for the rash, checking for the lump, checking for the canker. Waiting for the itch, waiting for the blood, waiting for the cancer. Breasts and billboards ulcer this gut: Teeny tiny hands sprouting to hurry me up. A few years in the colon forgetting my name To the waiting a**hole of a digger-neat grave. A televisual hex from a silicone witch. (Repeat!) Another neon brood slithers from a puppy-faced b**h. (Repeat!) And the portals are widening into the void But it's less Egon Scheile, a little more Lucian Freud. The cracks in the roof have made a pact with the trees (Repeat!) For the next high wind when I'm fast asleep. (Repeat!) The frayed wires all a-wiggling in delight In the power shower cover that's not earthed quite right. Noroviruses bloom on the cashpoint keys. (Repeat!) The E. coli blossoms in the food I eat. (Repeat!) And the screws in the shelves looming over my bed Work loose a little more every time I rest my head. Ballets in menses? Poems in sh**? Raptures in urine? Go ask Job Luxford If there's a God in the grit. I don't think so. Just so you all know: You're gonna die slow.