Marijuana's A Working Woman

In the sensory overload chamber
Massage the android until it turns on
Die once every three minutes
Something to look forward to throughout your day
When people ask me my gender
I just tell them, "Brunette"
Oh, their brains are on peroxide
Phony pride speaks only when it should've cried

Naifs in decay return into TV
Depression stunned celebs
Who are suborning
People who need people to get in your face
Catalog a new low
And England is rife with lurchers

A jasmine chorus of mountain cur
She loves her Bowie-eyed bat-faced girl
The shadow's attempt on my life
Autumn breaks its back for new hauntings
We saw the White Witch of Glenwood
Then got high and watched ourselves as re-runs
In lemon-tinted glass fans curb
Auto-cleft musicians to play together

Pages of sound arc Andalusian raga
The bloated influencer in repose
In the part of the brain that karma allows
(Anyone, anyone, anyone)
Anyone perfect to be chic

Maybe we should fight it
Always seems to make everything better
Maybe we should fight
Maybe we should fight
Maybe we should fight it
Always seems to make everything better
Maybe we should fight
Maybe we should fight
Maybe we should fight it
Always seems to make everything better
Maybe we should fight
Maybe we should fight
Maybe we should fight it
Always seems to make everything better
Maybe we should fight
Maybe we should fight

Maybe we should fight it
Always seems to make everything better
Maybe
Maybe we should fight it
Always seems to make everything better
Maybe

Forget your mind
It's not going anywhere or it's
Going everywhere
Which amounts to the same thing

Graveyard pinhead straddled ghouled tears of worm
For somber tuft slitherer of eternal bate, withholding
Naked calf brunette drowning partner
Itself's forehead blood hiding the left hand
To hovering mischief's single dimension mis-cast imitator
Dance, tell a joke, worsen the mood

Listen to me

The ultimate purpose of white magic is to make my face
Gleam with seven rays of ice, cape
Heaps birds of no paradise in Ganzfeld experiments
Feeding hours fulminate evil serotonin uptake inhibitors
It's a good night to cry, I don't have any tears left
It's a good night to cry, I don't have any tears left
It's a fine night to cry

Depression eels committing thought crimes
How does it feel to be a bust?