Lyrics Fun with Friends - Vore Complex

I had a bloody good time from five to thirteen
Apart from the somewhat inconvenient 'ritual' abuse in-between
Yes, that's what I thought I'd talk about this evening
Because, unfortunately for some, I still appear to be breathing

I know this bloke's full name and he's from Chelmsford town
Just in case you had trained hel-hounds and wanted to hunt him down
But I wouldn't bother, you'd never see him
He's been off selling real estate from a beach in the Caribbean
And was driving round in a big, fancy car
Whilst I stumbled into and out of the bar
So he strolled through the palm trees with girls on each arm
As I vomited bile and perfected self-harm

But there's no need to moan, it wasn't that bad
It takes more than atrocious night terrors to make me feel sad
Ok, those naked, sobbing whippings were more miss than hit
But it beats the silly time he did that thing with his shit
And of course it's not enough to make someone come undone
Knowing that he had his way with both yourself and your Mum
And remained very popular and well-respected amongst my peers
As I hid from their fists, words and eyes for 10 years
And in the guy's favour, he was an enterprising student
When I was first incarcerated in that fine East London unit
He even visited me once, which was nice, and good-hearted
Pity he left to go back home when the screaming started
Thus missing me being prescribed the wrong meds
What another lovely memory in my fluffy pom-pom head
Since those well-trained, compassionate Mental Health twits
Decided pretty quickly I was a bit of a git
Having been wrongly-labelled Schizophrenic, then with Paranoid PD
Till a massive cocktail of pharmaceuticals did that charming thing to me

Aside from that the stay was pretty much Heaven
And my friend just loved the staff and of course they didn't break her
When they laughed at her dad's jokes before he took her home to rape her
And treating her Agoraphobia by letting her softly creep out back
To those helpful bits of grit and nails and scattered piles of tacks
When she swallowed quite a few they did indeed seem rather miffed
But not as much as when they caught us lending her a spliff

And, once upon a time, myself, I lent out 'Sophie's World'
I know, Philosophy A-Level makes such crazy thoughts unfurl
And indeed, it's not the point that the fellow down the ward
Had also been neglected and was getting rather bored
So when he didn't really like it, it was time for public shame
And of course they were professional in doling out some blame
And some great no-questions leave so I could breeze through the front gate
And off to the local hardware store in a nice, calm, peaceful state
And return an hour later to find them all back behind glass
Drinking down their mugs of tea and scowling at me as I passed
They may not have known the history but they certainly understood guilt
As they laid it on quite thick and knew that no blood would be spilt
When the crystals of drain cleaner burnt my forearm to the bone
It was lucky it was evening so most workers had gone home
And with morphine and multiple skin grafts I was obviously OK
And everything was tickety-boo and life was going just my way

Unfortunately though there were also the occasional bad times
But they'll just be briefly mentioned lest they spoil this joyous rhyme
The casual bullying and abuse and a fair few violent laughs
Between patients, on themselves, but no, not once, ahem, from caring staff
At least I got out in the end and breathed in a... fresher air
And it's not their fault at all that there was no planned aftercare
Because by then I had discovered you can manage any pain
With a little bit of gear, strong drink, and lots of crack cocaine

And looking back years later I remember how my mate
Used his charm and skill and fine wit carrying out hilarious japes
And thus I wish him every meaningful success through all his life
And of course I never mean it when I wire up that knife
And fantasise of shocking him to little twitching chunks
To feed to rabid wolverines that I've got high on junk
Then shovelling up their excrement to chuck it into a volcano
Off of 60mg of poison so thank Christ I'm now okay though

And I certainly could not wish him a single measure of ill will
And will stress this point repeatedly if questioned by the Old Bill
No officers, I don't know where that vast stockpile home-made trench-raiding clubs came from
And I 'm certainly not bitter and would never lay the blame on
And that Kevorkian Death Machine? Well, the workmanship was shoddy
So I thought I'd fix it up as it's so good to have a hobby

And society is kind and hearts could not be made of stone
And a pissed off human being needs a good cathartic moan
As the world is full of beauty and that never could be hushed
And those 20 years of horrible shit are well and truly flushed
But before I leave this poem I should make the last remark
That if a terminal disease appears it might just play a part
So if AIDS gets in my system I've considered having yet more fun
By filling syringes with my blood and taking a fucking holiday in the sun