The Hidden Cameras Follow

With fangs and red eyes I boast my hairy shrine
The sky stained poo drab as the dad drives
Through the blunder and the cold, the cassette survives
Brittle plastic, the tongue tied and my week's favorite find

In the union of wine to be seen is to be blind
The cassette is a lie, then to pause and to rewind
I tripped through his front door, entangled clothes
And bones as we lay warm

He slaps my belly to a beat with a meaty groan
We then finish with a feast, fellowship of beef
In the union of wine, I may be lost but he is mine
To be on top from behind and the odor of the refined

I wore out his radio
It's like drinking in the cold with our cheapest find
And the truth that may be told as we piss in rows
That boy is entered on his side as he wonders why that

In the union of wine, in my Walkman I am blind
'Cause the cassette is a lie, to be born is to be blind
In the union of wine he's neither bold nor even bright
In the union of wine he's neither bold nor even bright