Decadence is restrained and smothered
By the strictest codes of conduct
And you'll writhe naked upon the sands
As the sun flays every inch of skin
Which is then assaulted and hacked away by the scorching
Barren wind of empty breath

You wail and pray and grovel on your knees
For a drop of water, just a bit of substance
Instead, you must sustain yourself on the scraps of idleness
Or gorge yourself on the incessant corruption and muck of indifference

Excessiveness is a virtue, debasement is a virtue
This is the birthplace of Saint I-Don't-Care
The patron saint of extravagant waste and crippling depression

Enjoy the masquerade of dark, bitter smiles of those
Too senseless to notice the uncanny resemblance
Uptight aristocrat, lackadaisical vagabond
Different uniforms for the same subservient fuck