Bauhaus — Antonin Artaud

[Verse 1] The young man held a gun to the head of God Stick this holy cow Put the audience in action Let the slaughtered take a bow [Verse 2] The old man's words, white hot knives Slicing through warm butter The butter is the heart The rancid peeling soul [Bridge] Scratch pictures on asylum walls Broken nails and matchsticks Hypodermic, hypodermic, hypodermic Red fix [Verse 3] One man's poison is another man's meat One man's agony another man's treat Artaud lived with his neck Placed firmly in the noose [Verse 4] Eyes black with pain Limbs in cramped, contorted The theatre and his double The void and the aborted [Outro] Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones Those Indians wank on his bones