Now If Six Turned Up To Be

You May Almost Forget The Smell Of Your Family.

Your Mysterious Mountains I Wish To See Closer. May I Land My Kinky Machine?

We Take Our Last Look At The Killing Noise.

Is This Love, Baby, Or Is This Just Confusion?

White Collar Conservative Flashin' Down The Street, Pointing That Plastic Finger At Me, Hoping Soon My Kind Will Drop And Die, But I'm Gonna Wave My Freak Flag High.