You’re going through phases – are you some kind of man or a moon?
Either way, these here boots, they’re going to walk all over you
And it’s all true, isn’t it? There’s no real altruism, kid
It’s just a new set of clothes on the same old selfishness
Cold piss

Out walking the streets, looking for these alleged elegant truths
It’s just me, lonely me, and the other relevant dudes
Arrogant enough to believe this is developing news
I exist just as a fish stuck with the pelican blues
Hot deuce

Here it goes again
I hear you took it to another level

Tonight I’m crying for a baby who’s never going to be born
My authentic self was aborted at the age of four
You know I’ll always be a junkie, you see me spread across the floor
One two three four five six seven angels don’t come around no more
But I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry
I’m not gonna cry thinking about that baby
But I’m gonna die, die if I don’t try
Try to bring that man to life

But what of the classic contest? Content vs. Context
They have a fight – Context wins! Con men contact content’s next of kin
Saying, “I’m looking for yr least feminine lesbian
We’re gonna pump her so full of bovine estrogen
She won’t be masculine, I’m high on mescalin
But no one knows ’cause I shit on some Mexicans”

Hot deuce