I got stains on my fingers I can't wash
I got 'em in the garden of Heironymus Bosch
Where they stuck my nose in a bowl of spice
And flowers up my ass to make my breath smell nice
I scrub but can't get the stains off my fingers
The colour fades, the smell it lingers
The Nazis made soap from the fat of the Jews
They used it to clean the blood from their shoes
We're packed like sardines in this subway train
Everybody's fingers got the same yellow stains
My blood is as thick and the colour of tar
This subway train feels like a Dachau cattle car
I wonder in all this bustle
With every additional hustle
Is it just a hollow muscle
Or is it a heart?
There's tears in my eyes and pollution in my nose
Some fat Texan's cigar is stinkin' up my clothes
I lean over and tell him what Sigmund Freud thought
Sometimes a cigar is a tobacco covered cock
He blows smoke in my face while the train keeps on buckin'
I keep turning green and he keeps on suckin'
I don't know who they are, I don't know what they want
But they're vivisecting virgins in the state of Vermont
I subscribe to their newsletter, it comes three times a year
They keep manifesting manifestos but none of them are clear
To me their talkin' sounds like Stephen Hawkins
They offered me a ride, but I'm still walkin'
I wonder in all this bustle
With every additional hustle
Is it just a hollow muscle
Or is it a heart?