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 Nobody  my true identity.
 For all we know I'm  F. Kennedy's
  child with Nosferatu.
 We can't know, but still we  to.
 Nobody knows how  this mystery goes,
 but ancient caveman history 
 We're all descended from the  evil alien slime.
 And it's a pretty  of gray.
  makes the woodwork eat away.
  breaks and cow's milk curdles.
 It glows  the dark and it mutates turtles.
 Somebody told  something interesting.
 They told me the  is always tempesting
 round  around again.
 I've had enough  that pseudo-Zen.
 Somebody  was watching from afar,
 screwing it  like a broken VCR.
 She thought that I was very insincere, 
 I  my eyes a bit too much.
 Am I really that out  touch?
 Why should I  about this?
 I'm  concerned with the things I miss.
 I  see the point in not believing in
 things you can taste like fear and 
 Sadly this hasn't gotten me anything but dread  gluttony.
 Under the ground is  I wanna go.
 Surely there is a way,  I dunno how to get there.
 No one seems to know, actually, 
 I  to use a garden spade,
 but it was very poorly 
 It broke into so many 
 It's times  these that I wish had
 Telekinesis...Telekinesis...Telekinesis