Stake what you want,
They’ll never collect it
Double or quits
Is the name of the game
Don’t bother starting
With the man in the mirror
Smash up your life
Like a window’s pane:

Psychedelic middle-aged dread
With a Sex Pistol lyric like a bomb in your head
Used to be playtime now its time for bed
Get older, get poorer, get sick, get dead!

Say what you want,
Hope you live to regret it
And all that you earn’s
Another link in your chain.
Bling out your dead
For a sparkling finish
Cash in your karma
Take an astral plane:

Psychedelic middle-aged dread
Don’t follow leaders – you’ll just get led
Throw up all the lies you feed and get fed
Never forget what the Lizard King said
(“No-one gets out of here alive”)

Whatever you want
You won’t like when you get it
You’ll never reset it -
This year’s on all day.
Drop down a menu
Life clicks and it drags
Press shuffle, sit back –
Its on random play:

Psychedelic middle-aged cook
Look up all the chemicals that you took
Add more ingredients to the soup in your head
Simmer and boil, leave to cool – drop dead!