Fame Throwa Pass Out The Gold, The Diamond

Watch, The Last Reward, All The Things We Had

Before You Sold Us Out And Took It All.

Head-borne Cries From Zenith Sluts, Astral

Rites From Dead-end Ruts.

These Kids Are Sick-end Wars

"One Of The Nation's Spies.

One Of Our First Recruits.

Click With Her Leather Thighs

One Of Our First Recruits."

How Can You Know? In The Distance Lies

A Grower, Nee Rode Off, King Fame Throwa

Son Of Groupie, Red-worn Sexan: Spent His

Cash Convincing Us That The Desert Was

A Starscape And Sold Our Lives For A

Satellite So We Could Cry:

"Naked, Naked Foul" (sic)