with the dead in the language of the dead

We said we were confused to see me so spooked
Handed a guaranteed lottery ticket like the business end of a red-hot poker

Well out, damned incision! Step back, knowing best!

I could no more crawl up a telephone pole than could I fashion myself the perfect candidate

The art of misrepresentation - we think maybe I lied, too

But still I say out with it, secrets be seceded, and let me straight out of this union

More perfect, more perfect
Foul marriage, fights finicky, caging birds of prey

And we see that I have been preyed upon
I never could foresee this
- and I would not want to

Doesn't this young lady know what she is being offered?
Doesn't this middle man know that he is demeaning?

We fashioned up a figurehead, a man of life's advanced variation
He was a man who believed in two things: achievement, and Italian food
Of equivalent note, he had a big nose
And he believed himself striking in infinite virtue

This man is no enemy of mine; I will not duel him
I will not be bent over the anvil for any comfort pretended divine

If you're insulted, then be insulted!
I'm not gonna grow the fuck up on your dime

What quest, what noble
What questions, what silence

Out, let me out, let me out !