fame throwa pass out the gold,
the diamon watch the last reward,
all the things we had before
you sold us out and took it all
head-borne cries from zenith sluts
astral rites from dead-end ruts
these ends are sickened wars [x2]
he's one of our nation's spies
he's one of our first recruits
i click with her leather thighs
he's one of our first recruits
how can you know?
in the distance lies a grower,
nйe Rudolph, king fame throwa,
son of groupie, bed-worn sexan
spent his cash convincing us
that the desert was a starscape