Bullhorn:
"Save the falsetto valentines for
the black ice cube toast, for the filth
roast."

Classified:
You know she looks so clinique,
but when you think she's asleep,
we're watching from inside the pilot's seat.
Because unfortunately this Marylin Monroe is a secret Zeppelin
whose sweat rains down napalm confetti on
all black tie celebrations.

Bullhorn:
Tear out your carnivorous toupee for the afro fire,
save your hors d'oeuvres for the boiling lobster choir.

Classified:
You know she looks so vulnerable in that snakeskin shawl,
but we're watching through her cut out eye holes
(because unfortunately this Marylin
Monroe is a Secret Zeppelin
known towing a sign across the Coca-cola
sky that reads S.S. Penetration)

God Bless you Bloodthirsty Zeppelins!

Technique:
And now we're flying over the past
and future butchered from out brains and left to rot.
And now we're flying over the television towers
plastering the air with the filthy film of prayer.
We don't need a blueprint, we don't need a blue print
To burn our manuscripts naked and new.
We don't need a blueprint, we don't need a blue print
the blue prints me, the blue prints you.

Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/NcGxClassified:
We'll build our engines from hyjacked hymans.
Propellers churning in whispered fury.
We'll pluck our bombs from the greased pouch
of your presidents propaganda pupa louse.

Message received:
"Honey I'll be home late, from the office today,
up to my neck in paperwork, yeah,
my boss is such a jerk."

Telephone wire:
"Oh, yeah she bought the story and
there's a motel nearby...
so show me your, show me your surrender face baby"

Bullhorn:
Unfortunately this Marylin Monroe is a secret Zeppelin
set on a crash coarse with your cumshot museum
with the blowjob bunny mansion.

Technique:
And now we're flying over factories
manufacturing authentic ecstasy.
And now we're flying over the swamp
that brews the biggest smiles, cackling teeth in piles.
And now we're flying over the globe
derobed all the houses x-rayed all our thoughts exposed.
And all the copyrighted memories in my head spill to the floor
in a puddle of hungry lead.
And while the traffic weaves human tapestry's
we sing a chord to the frustration symphony.
Unfortunately this Marylin Monroe is a secret Zeppelin

Busy Intersection:
Oh my God, the bombs are falling!