Production may be:
In Economics:
In Ecology:
In Entertainment:
In Abstract systems:
This man
May have a shitload
To prove
He's got to settle a score
Against the groove
Infinite orgasm
Like endless joy and pain
Thunder to my ears
Like a holy rain
An aural wall of waking
Awash in purple paint
And a digging
Of the flowers in your yard
Electric rays of healing
Intensify the feeling of hatred
Towards the things you say
I ain't
Fear a man-child
His soul and seman
Pathetic thoughts he thinks
Forever
Heard you caused a landslide
Walking home
Soon slide the man-child
Under your coat
Product of your generation
Your masturbation
A master plan
A holy man
Infanticide
Decaying minds
Mass corruption
The product
Tonight a carnivore is out
Lust burning in his head
The need for flesh leads him
Right between your thighs
Violent energy hammers
His body into yours, animalistic rituals
No love, just wantoness
No love, just wantoness
Lust, physical, liquids, blood
One big piece
Of meat they are
Slaves of sexuality
Careless sinners
Producing
A hunger for
Someone's most infected
And rotten parts
One constant
Rhythm of work
For the bad machine
Extending your hole
Sucking out
The entire pride
Of the partner's meat
Crude penetration
It makes him roar
Body against body
Sweat, saliva, and sperm
And once again he scores...
we want drugs
we want love
we want sex
we want fun
we want changes
we want more
more than nothing
and nothing at home
we want
something
new
we are offset
and we are poor
we are unreal
and we are alone
we want drugs
we want to die
we want love
to dive in and die
(...)