Artificial hells (and paradises)

I only see rainbows

Now that the bandages are gone

Through my window, there…

From the skyscrapers

Down to the submarines

Birds and fairies, sanctuaries,

Atop the rolling hills of Hell

These words are sledgehammers of truth

That pound the iron heart of sin

Bloody smiling, vandalizing

My wet dream is drying up

Mr. Bungle,
The Air-conditioned Nightmare