Visions of Pain The Fat White Family

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A prick, a prod, it′s the end of the line
The wrong kind of dream that water still isn't wine
Gone Golgothic, my friend, it is bent, it is torn
More than clear that you′re here to suck it up from the floor
The rabble they grope, in gladness they crush
My every ideal but I'm no longer touched
I'm whiter than milk, a plant, a seed
A growth agape, the reason you plead

A stiff, a crutch, it′s the end of a prime
The end of a stump, it′s a waste of your time
It's anaemic to taste, it is stale, it is done
It is blight, it is clear that you′re here to be shunned
They cattle, they stoop, in madness they rush
I froth at the mouth but I'm no longer touched
I′m whiter than milk, a prat, a weed
A bum, a flash, the source of all need
It's your dead town spice, it′s the size of your mum
It's a break in the keel, it's awake, it is numb
Still my brother insists that we stay on the march
Through his vision of pain to the end of my heart

(Visions of pain)
To the end of my heart (Visions of pain)
(Visions of pain)
To the end of my heart (Visions of pain)