Why? - The Fall Of Mr. Fifths lyrics

Just another Sunday Paddle-boat ride on a man-made lake with another lady stranger. If I remain lost and die on a cross, at least I wasn't born in a manger. I can sense, somewhere right now I'm being prayed for. Seems like I always arrive at the same shore from where my sails set maybe with one less lady than my vessel left with. Is that a threat? Oh, I've stayed scarce this past year, yes. But be a**ured in unrest: I'm unavoidable, like d**h this Christmas. Is this twisted? Why be upset? I never said I didn't have syphilis, Miss Listless -- Hard like the bricks I pound my fists with. I mean, she's hard like the bricks that I pound with my fists. This is "The fall of Mr. Fifths, forged for the hordes and the ladies and lords, set with fat chords in modern English. I know, I know, There's nothing more appealing than the sound of high heels down the marble tile hallways of your districts one alloted city-funded Steiner school, Bilingual or Montessori, followed by a single high-pitched scream, followed by breaking gla**. But could your anger be mapped into an interpretive dance to a trip-hop track? Could it be bowed out on strings? Or strung into a pattern for a God's eye to bring to your alma-mater's holiday fundraiser boutique thing?