time's your son
don't insult me with your gun
you gods can get used to anything
when the ceiling press your head in
while the breeze avoids your house
don't tie me up
with your invisible rope
woe unto he who reads the wrong file
when the grey stuff turns to silver
when the cameras close their eyes you're gone
when the proof won't change your mind you're lost
when evil is inside you cough
pull out the parasite