I'm drifting through an atmosphere of firewood
Between the arcs of sparks I imagine a bird, born of smoke and ash
Bound by blades of grass my naked feet won't leave the earth
You make me want to change my name
When you smile with too many teeth
Just like a crocodile floating down the Nile, but you devour my money for free
Here comes the yellow rain, into my green berets
Now we'll make chemicals that won't fade away
A cold and calculated macabre barrage
The flight of honeybees was only a mirage
Born of smoke and ash
Chained around my neck the smell of mustard fills their lungs
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