(Re-recorded for Portrait of an American Family)
Burn the witches. Burn the witches.
Don't take time to sew the stitches.
Burn the witches. Burn the witches.
Don't take time to sew the stitches.
Hand shake, ring sign, snake eye, bite mine.
Hand shake, ring sign, snake eye, bite mine.
I don't need your hate.
I decide my fate.
Burn your bridges. Burn your bridges
Don't take time to sew the stitches.
Burn your bridges. Burn your bridges
Don't take time to sew the stitches.
Levi, Crowley, Golden Dawn.
Strange same dogma, on and on.
I don't need your hate.
I decide my fate.
We don't viscerate.
Your mind masturbates.
(Alternate version re-recorded for Portrait of an American
Family)
The clock is a ring on her finger
That she checks
When she's out of time.
The cigarette's a spike
In the spur of the moment
Digging in her side.
She cuts the paper with nails
And her pen is bleeding poetry.
Nervous from the sex that she got
And the wine that she spilled
On her clean, white, white sheets.
Like to see you, baby,
All torn up inside.
Girl you're dead already
So just let your ego die.
Girl you're dead already
So just let your ego die.
Die, die, die.
You want to look like me.
You want to act like me.
You've got no sense of your own identity.
You can't begin to see
That you and me makes we.
That's not what I want to be
So fuck you.
Imitation's not a flattery.
You can't begin to feel, you can't begin to feel,
You can't begin to feel.
I said fuck you
I don't want to know you.
I don't want to know.
(Chorus: It's about time, I've made up my mind.
Get out of my life you motherfucker.
It's about time, made up my mind.
I'm taking what's mine
You motherfucker.)
You are made
From things you steal from me.
You can't begin to feel, can't begin to feel,
Can't begin to feel
So fuck you
You suck my energy, my personality.
You steal steal steal from me.
You can't begin to feel, can't begin to feel,
Can't begin to feel
So fuck you.
Imitation's not a flattery.
So you're a pitiful thief, you're a pitiful thief,
You're a pitiful thief.
Fuck you.
I don't want to know you, I don't want to know.
(Chorus)
You are made from things you steal from me.
You can't begin to feel, can't begin to feel,
can't begin to feel.
Fuck you.
If you want to worship me then just worship me.
Don't even try to be.
You're a fucking thief, you're a fucking thief,
a fucking thief.
Fuck you.
Imitation's not a flattery.
You're a fucking thief.
I don't want to know you.
Smack dab flat on my back.
The solid ground begins to crack.
I pulled her down and down and down.
I lost my breath I thought I'd drown.
(Chorus: Fistfuls of you, fistfuls of you.
You pulled me through with white knuckles.
White knuckles. White knuckles.)
Her leg, my hand, a smoldering brand
Sticking to her wet body like sand.
Her place, distaste, we fell from grace.
Red smears across her face.
(Repeat Chorus Twice)
I'll spread me open, stuck to my ribs
Are all your infants in abortion cribs.
You run like roaches, and you try to die.
I know your poison, in our space we'll lie.
To an obscene god we will dance and spit.
The skin is thin, in our beds we sit.
We take off our rings and we kneel.
Our scabbed knees are so slow to heal.
Stretch a little boy hole
For looking-glass people.
I don't want to be me.
I don't want to fear, no.
Momma's got a scarecrow.
Got to let the corn grow.
A man can't always reap what he sows.
(Cut, cut, cut in pantomime, mime, mime.
I'll be your devil if you'll admit you're mine.)
Leave yourself to be ultra-here.
The chill of fall is always crawling near.
Spiders in the flowers
Never know their smell.
The barbers here know secrets
They will never tell.
(Cut, cut, cut in pantomime, mime, mime.
I'll be your devil if you'll admit you're mine.)
DAISY BERKOWITZ: Guitars, harmonica
GIDGET GEIN: Bass, fuzz bass, cat shit
MADONNA WAYNE GACY: Theremin, musette, hammond B3, cunt sequence,
harpsichord, brass, sampled guitar, bass and voices
SARA LEE LUCAS: Drums, digital programs
MR. NO NAME MANSON: Character distortion, sore throat
CREDITS: All lyrics written by Mr. Manson, and all music written by Berkowitz and Gein with additional music by Gacy except 'Dope Hat', written by Manson and Berkowitz. THE FAMILY JAMS was recorded in live warehouse sessions during 1991 and 1992 on a Tascam Porta-One 4-track recorder, bitch, and was produced and mixed by Daisy Berkowitz with the assistance of Kurt Moody, resident engineer. It's not the equipment, it's the technique.