Bats Flew Up

Bats flew up from the hell of hells

In the flames of the trice

Where the socialites feed in the mixed breed

They are names with a price

Alien parts breed no provenance

With their lost extraneous bank slips

Still they locate in the shops they hate

To hear Faust explaining his hot lips

Now the hive is so alive

Beneath the buzz of counter buzz

I see them run, I see them hide

Their useless palms down to their side

It's alright

Alright

Alright

Alright