the ritual of CHUD

i need a ritual, the ritual of CHUD
i need a song like this town needs a flood
i got nothing to say and nothing to pray
so just bite my tongue and drink my blood

let's do it in the sewers while the video plays
i'll return the favour, then everything will be right, somehow
not wrong-headed, and trivial, and meaningless
like it is, now

so much to do, so little fuel for it all
i'm the laziest thrill-seeker i know
not happy with anything less than hookers and blow
and wanting it fed-exed to me, and why not?
sure i worked for some good things
but anything great that ever happened
was handed to me, almost makes me wanna worship luck

not wanting to look for
more
work
yet more work, yeah, fuck off, you
didn't give me the job you promised, i cerebrally-recorded
your verbal contract, so you, the you that is the world
can make do without my services, for a while,
i got enough tasteless gruel on my plate
it's frosted with pure refined sugar

living with the extended family, some inlaws, a cousin
and the other grandparents here for the holidays
i see a knit of people happy with less thrills
stately, family, working for things for family
they got soul, and i got a hole, sucking
cognition through the void, i don't know
if i WANT to be happy with less thrills
like i'd sell my uninspired getting by non-spiritual life
for the real thrills i've been chasing
that have always been just out of reach
the good stuff, cause it's all chemicals anyway
it's chemicals that coagulate to DNA
a strand for a cell for a healthy young body
a gene for curviature, the other half i crave
and then, the stuff that binds to my receptors
that would be fool's gold, that would weigh down
another lever of curiosity, anyway
i'm getting a head of myself, and the scuplture
is practically accurate but unimaginative

there's no working for anything
when you're in the dripping sub-sewers
there’s retro-time, there’s deadlights
there’s... a music video