Danideru - The King of Farbs Lyrics

I hear in the silence, all the violence that's piling in your living room
I see, there's more than a war to pour into your fantasies
Your clique is sick of the limp dicks that stick around to mar your look
Your cure, is a future of suitors to suture up your rumor
Rumor

You burn what little you learn, and spurn all the rest of me
You mourn in the darkness, as an artist, and harvest some familiar porn
A fake, I shake my fist to the aching of a narcissist
My face is a gesture of a jester and his polyester masquerade
Masquerade

Though I'm bursting apart at the seams, I'd rather be the king of farbs of the 18th century
Than the future you want for me

Not for me