The Acid Meth Club Night With Floyd

Psychotropic fluxuations filming a hazy picture for a hazier syndication
Eight balls pocketed
Masticating her eye ball sockets
Masturbating into shopping dockets
Sweating profusely, betting on a children’s game of foosball
Screaming until they can’t stand it, beaming at the ushering parents

I tried to sit in the club but the music was shit, like dumb dumb dumb
So very dumb, how can they condom this?
So I slip on my headphones and play comfortably numb
I lie down in the middle of the dance floor
And smoke the last of my meth with some chance whore
I feel need to write, I’m having an aesthetical attack so I ask everyone for a pen
They ask me “What the fuck is that?” the whore helps me to my feet again  
She tells me “Relax”
“I need some information first. Just the basic facts”
I confirm my dreaded inclination; the whore before wore no copper’s cap