Every time I try to say goodbye, reason clogs my mewling, naïve mouth.
It’s paralyzing ecstasy that will engage me
In holy Stomachland.
This station cannot be the only one.
In holy Stomachland this station cannot be the only one.
Every time the sun sets in my brain radiation runs through every fold.
A strange mutation as nights sets in, to my elation,
In holy Stomachland.
This station cannot be the only one.
In holy Stomachland this station cannot be the only one.