Bombing the Moon

Those bastards make me feel like clubbing baby seals and killing dying species.
Fuckers make me feel like sinking crowded ships and O boy; I could use a fist
fight, eye wound.
Knife fight.
I’ll slide in my best suit and pour some more grease on.
O man; I know I look good.
Whatever they’ve got, I’ve got so much more.
La la la la la la.
Such violence: la la la la la la.
There is something beautiful pouring out of me, something wonderful happening
to you.
La la la la la la.
Such violence: la la la la la la.
How I love this violence.