Fame thrower pass out the gold
The diamond watch, the last reward
All the things we hid before you sold us out and took it all
Head-borne cries from zenith sluts
Astral rites from dead-end ruts
And these ends are sick-end wars
These ends were sick and wars

He's one of our nation's spies
He's one of our first recruits
I click with her leather thighs
One of our first recruits

How can you know?
In the distance lies a grower
Née rude-off, king fame thrower
Son of groupie, bed-worn sexon
Spent his cash convincing us that the desert was a star-scape
Took our lives for a satellite so we could cry
Naked, naked foul

He's one of our nation's spies
He's one of our first recruits
I click with her leather thighs
One of our first recruits