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April March

Necropolis

It's driving me crazy...this necropolis.
I feel watched and dirty all the time.
These nasty piles of the populous,
Commit and resubmit the heinous crimes.

Oh... where can we turn, I feel like a contradticion?
Oh...I start to burn, I feel subjucated to submission?

It's making me seethe...this necropolis.
Making me turn round and round.
Suddenly one of the populous.
Guess there are no more mysteries to expound...or confound.
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Oh... where can we turn, I feel like a common dictator?
Oh... I start to yearn, my potato features are in the perculator?

Eeeh..oh..poppin chock.. where shan't I go?
Peeh oh..cockkin bock... why can't I slow?

Oh... where can we turn, I explain to the juristdition?
Oh... where can we turn, ah-ee-ah-ee-ahhh....