Text: Showbread. No Sir, Nihilism Is Not Practical. Welcome To Plainfield Tobe Hooper.

That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles
Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic
Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you
To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium

I?ll bet your hands are beautiful
I?m sure your head is beautiful
But the world is ugly
The world is ugly and it?s true

I?ll bet your hands are beautiful
I?m sure your head is beautiful
But the world is ugly
The world is ugly even after you

Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service
All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing can?t hurt us
Sensationalized for virgin eyes, it?s graphic, it?s disturbing
And it?s worse still to think it?s real, degrading and unnerving

I?ll bet your hands are beautiful
I?m sure your head is beautiful
But the world is ugly
So the world is ugly even after you

I?ll bet your hands are beautiful
I?m sure your head is beautiful
But the world is ugly
The world is ugly and it?s true

I?ll bet your hands are beautiful
I?m sure your head is beautiful
But the world is ugly
The world is ugly even after you