They have no true religion So tear apart their fields They have no real friends Except themselves They are a cultlike breed Selfish snobby And mean. Russia once thanked me For not smoking pot around them "No thanks. I am Good." She said. In her voice, so telekinetically. I felt, hardly bewitching me. Any magic left..? No. Frozen, left out in the cold Dead in the snow Friendly fire From the remote control Until they're crying Who's to blame 'Cept who's behind the screen. A poltergeist show When I run the voodoo No one knows where to go On the plexus drive I'll still keep you alive To be totally tortured In the mind & I'll leave an extra bullet For a few of my own kind.