Tekster: Pulp. Masters Of The Universe. Simultaneous.

Oh there's a place for you. You'd better stay in it. A place for
everything and of course all you can do is talk about it. Oh you've got
it all. Yes, you've got it all; it let you down. Now it doesn't seem so
simple that dirt gets everywhere. And your mouth won't get you out of it -
standing naked, standing bare. Oh you had it all, etc. Now see it all
burning, your contract is ashes, your clean-living lovers, your timetabled
kisses, your well-rehearsed phrases, your reasonable wishes, your separate

bedrooms, your forbidden places. You're out on the moorland, you've naked
and bleeding with no place for shelter and no place to hide in. You're
screaming for mercy, abandoned, forsaken, screaming for mercy and then you
awaken. Oh.