I think tonight I’ll stay at home
And draw a bath
A cozy place to sit and contemplate the wrath
The pitter-patter of the faucet drips
And I count by math
I lick the salt off my finger tips
‘Til it drives me mad
The digits stick to my tongue
And I begin to add
One plus two plus three
Really too bad, too bad
Naturally, I must find what I need
In the streets to understand
I pick the flesh of his eyeballs from my teeth
‘Til it drives me insane
I lick the salt off my tips, I, Zombie.
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