Bipolaroyds

Gather round all ye citizens Take up the blowtorch, Put on your welding mask, save your eyes, cuz God might be blind, but we ain't. Call the maitre de, call room service, call me Ishmael, it's a mean old world, we're gonna change it, tighten your tournequets, rebuild Utopia, Subvert the world with good ole daydreaming. We're dying alone or living together. Young souls, old souls, all souls alike.