Fabricators - Bad Fruit Lyrics

I'm the artisan, I am a Cezanne
I'm a still life frozen in time
Got no mountain to climb, can't turn water to wine
The process ain't that simple
But we are all deleted scenes
We're loose inserts from magazines

We're just sewer rats, broken thermostats
Caveats, Kerouac on the road to a freakshow
Of lonely accountants on podiums
Policed by the dwarfs and the society
Of the Siamese, plagued by tropical disease
This is the new reality
The circus freaks are walking your streets
Just like you they wanna be free from all this

More bad fruit, new bad batch, new bad news
Same old decree absolutely
Same sub-par wicker basket delivery
A lavender sick bucket beamed down from Aphrodite
Infestation of the pre-frontal cortex, rotting from the inside
Maggots writhe, maggots crawl, fleeing from the hovel where the soul should reside
The palace flophouse opens its doors, more bad news, new crawling fruit