N.Y. Stars

The stock is empty
 In our eyeball store
 
 All we got left
 A few cataracts and sores
 The faggot mimic machine
 Never had ideas
 Mission impossible
 The self destruct on fear
 
 On a standard New York night
 Ghouls go to see their so called stars
 A fairly stupid thing
 To pay 5 bucks for a 4th rate imitators
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 They say, I'm so empty
 No surface, no depth
 Oh, please, can I be you
 Your personality's so great
 Like new buildings
 Square tall and the same
 Sorry, Miss Stupid
 Didn't you know it was a game
 I'm just waiting
 For them to hurry up and die
 It's really getting to crowed here
 Help me New York stars
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 Contributions accepted all the same
 We need new people store
 Remember, we're very good at games