Oven baked in a bind
Air cooking
Start cooking
And a cooking
Come chew it up
A final death or sense of balance
That doorman dalliance
The final naked ways of roasting sand
The power and strength
The goddamn final nation man
Your times are broken crimes
The young chains timid
Spin lonely on their thorns
Their time to bake
Young chains now tight
Spin the web of ugly greed
You're chains to me
Smell like many a floral time to waste
Your times are broken crimes
I'm trapped
Get your food
Don't escape
Now begin
And you won't open the door
I have become what I become