Lletres: Mad Conductor (The). Renegade Space Rock. Feed The Beast.

Sex sells but you can get arrested if you buy it
So I myself have yet to be a client
Plus I'm dead broke
And it feels wrong
Like when I'm watching Check
And double check
And it makes me sick to my stomach
in 1936 I was posing as a durolect
In a socialite socitey as an expiriement
And neither was my sponsor
I was a protege
Fissilla was a killa
And she wanted me on the blade
I like to make believe that I'm a product of simplicity
Brought up on the oh-zone brains in missouri
Runnin with the sticks
And the bango picks
Far from the guns and the Rambo flicks
A man told me that blood was thicker than the waves
He ran from the water when he saw it break the barracade
Lucky man in his land-locked state
And he hobbled my legs now I can't walk straight

Like utopic MC from the green cakes of sinagoull
Bouncing off the kennell wall like a tennis ball
I busted out now I'm on the road to Zanza bar
Me without a microphone is like --------------?
Remember back in the black days of dracula
Mass packs of rats setting traps for me in Latvia
Like Frankenstein and electroshock therapy
A fractured spine and a loss of any memory
I've long since fled the great state of Texas
Running from an hours worth of minute men with death sticks
Out of mind in their miserable lives
Throwing knives from crossing their invisible lines
These are pitiful times here, man
And I can't hang no more
My beans are boiled but I'm bouncing back to Bangalore
I'm out of place in this planet full of humans
Recredit covered satellites raise up consumin

I don't really know how many fish are in the pond
And I can't count the stars on which I've wished upon
There is no space between us
And the ------and everthing and nothing at all...

(Thanks to Beth for these lyrics)