Grudge Music (bonus)

Deaf, blind granite block
Content to graze with familiar stock
A local lard, not an english black
We don't venture into the fog
Homeward bound and gagged not twenty steps from the door
Dispensable as cooks at sea or journalists sent to war

No one found me spellbinding
No one offered me a drink

But by crippled hands at the potters wheel
I was given shape and sex appeal
Sent to work the graveyard shift at heaven's JDC

Legend to the peasants there
Lies that caught me unaware
I've wandered into your graces, so how do I get out?
I want out
I want out
I want out

It's been quiet for too long
But pompous phrases and alarms can't help you now
And every pervert outside of every fence
Has had his fill of your kids
He's clocking out

Such indecisive crusaders
A martyr made into a scenic blur
Lookout into a left behind with wounded pride

No one finds me spellbinding
No one is buying me a drink

I've been fed to the lions
Left high and dry by the 8th circle of hell
Where are the spoils?
I want the ticker tape parade
Damn these filthy rats