About religion:

"Jungle mambo jolted monkey"

This is the song without a clue
that I've stuck in my head with powder glue.
This is a song without a visible trail
of wooden sticks without a plastic nail.

This is my jean without a blister patch.
This is the sale without a single catch.
You’ve drank all my blood without a spoon.
I've given it all to get into you.

I don't know what else should I do.
These cycles of dawn are getting me blue.
These pale smokes are getting solid and hard,
it’s tough to pass through without leaving a scar.

This is the jungle mambo jolted monkey.
Jumping and riding a big fat donkey.
It gets sick and tired and all in all.
It’s taken my lonely life and left my pathetic soul.

I don’t need
this one last breath.
It’s too much work,
I rather be stale.

Maybe you forgot to pull the rubber trigger.
Maybe I meant to cause the sinking fever.
Whatever it is, it is only and truly you
that I’ve stuck in my head with powder glue.

You walk alone amongst the shadows.
The stones on the floor are creeping me out.
The line on the map rides a never-ending circle.
And darkness climbs up and down the lying steeple.

Ding ding-dong is all that you think you hear.
And then I hope the stalker is near.
The story is getting rather empty and blurry.
Silence walks down the stairs in a hurry.

It’s all a never wanted and stinking dream.
I only want to wake up and flow upstream.
The donkey is a little disappointed.
The jungle mambo monkey cries while jolted.

My brand new jean has been now ripped.
And a red patch has gotten it fixed.
The sale always had a catch indeed.
It was all what it seemed to be.