Suburban Satans

	Eight years ago I spent money on drugs that would without question rock
	me to my very foundations.
	Why I chose to tear apart my world and my mind is a mystery.
	After the nerve ends beneath your skull begin to bleed you're guaranteed
	a one way ticket to that which is in the scheme of things a total self catastrophe.
	Open your mind to the presence of chemicals active and manifest as thought.
	It is true that we are the romantic ones.
	A section of the human race whose awareness is a crime.
	The hippies who burnt out on ecstasy in the sixties are now my kith and kin.
	Like a blown fuse refusing to conduct these vibes of passion and enthusiasm
	others pretend to have in abundance.
	The hippy has become surrounded by hate.
	Todays love child is a consumer of cool.
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