Sunshine, you’re off your head
Long live God? Yet God is dead
And mine is floored, with little reward
Than, be covered in blood, and leaking red
Into thy hands, I command my spirit
My light, diminished, so, it is finished
My core fanbase of a single nobody
Forgive me son, I’ve forsaken thee
Bump on the head
Then the coma
Biological death
Then the aroma
Dark matters, cut us up inside
Dark energies, either way, we’re fried
I’m too odd, to be God
Too even to believe in
You can’t harvest my soul
Cos, it don’t have no meaning