| Song | Interlude |
| Artist | Rozz Williams |
| Album | Whorse's Mouth |
| A bad joke without lines | |
| Punch the air, hands collapse in desperate coma | |
| My eyes pinpoint out the illusion, a bad dream these ties | |
| A stale and ugly kiss | |
| Handsome ridges melt away the layers of waste, think prodding savior eating away at raw nerve flesh | |
| This time harder and harder to beat the flies, the damp syphilis, the drain | |
| Self-medicating ghost of times past forgotten | |
| There is no dark pride in loneliness | |
| Escape those thick heads, denounce those addictions and memory fade | |
| What's your pleasure, pistol or syringe? | |
| Then take aim and fire Watch those memories | |
| Or drop dead |
| A bad joke without lines | |
| Punch the air, hands collapse in desperate coma | |
| My eyes pinpoint out the illusion, a bad dream these ties | |
| A stale and ugly kiss | |
| Handsome ridges melt away the layers of waste, think prodding savior eating away at raw nerve flesh | |
| This time harder and harder to beat the flies, the damp syphilis, the drain | |
| Selfmedicating ghost of times past forgotten | |
| There is no dark pride in loneliness | |
| Escape those thick heads, denounce those addictions and memory fade | |
| What' s your pleasure, pistol or syringe? | |
| Then take aim and fire Watch those memories | |
| Or drop dead |