Bad news travels fast like a rocket blasting out of Cape Canaveral
Ten minute ladder climb then fast travel to the realm of unactual
The land of unfactual, a fantasy land of inexactitude
Armies of perverted sex prudes up in arms along every latitude
I take the lube tube to give a booty mirror sheen, squeaky clean
Chain smoking fags and pulling out beard hairs
Spending more time in the dark than a fanged fiend
Tears along the frayed fringes of being
Flayed man sigil in pink, being on fringes
Fridge like an overencumbered backpack exiting a dungeon
Alchemisland 
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