Church: Lost my touch

Streets of burnt-out shells, insurance jobsA temporary spell in hell and it throbsIt throbs like hell in some divine comedyIt won't sell and that's a tragedyBut I know my way home I can get there aloneThe day I need you they can feed me to the lionsThey can stop trying to get it startedIts heart is gone, its shone for the last timeIt's past time it's mean time held over in-between timeIt's like Halloween timeI don't owe you anythingNow I'm out of powerNow I've lost my touchPlease don't touch anythingEvery passing hourOvercomes too muchI don't owe you anythingThere's a weaker weaker in the other speakerA weaker echo of my own voiceReproduced mechanically and electronicallyA symphony of frequenciesDelivering a slithering soundA pound of flesh caught in the mesh, a fresherA special deluxe, de-essed it, you guessed itUndress itI don't owe you anythingNow I've lost my powerNow I'm out of touchPlease don't touch anythingEvery passing hourOvercomes too muchI don't owe you anythingNow I've lost my powerNow I'm out of touchShould you would you could you couldCould you look good back on the streetYour feet get cold and you're too old you've been toldYou should've sold your soulIt's not worth anything out hereNot worth the earth you're standing onEarth, mother earth, hurt sweet mother earthWhat are you worthI don't owe you anythingNow I'm out of powerNow I've lost my touchPlease don't touch anythingEvery passing hourAll becomes too muchI don't owe you anythingNow I've lost my powerNow I'm out of touchI don't owe you anything, ahPlease don't touch anything, ahI don't owe you anything, ahI don't owe you anything, ah ahPlease don't touch anything, ah ahThey say his name is RayHe was a dominating, woman-hating SSOB1 2 3 that's how easy it's gonna beEverything is completeIf you need to cheatIf you want to eatEven the air, once freeYou now pay the feeYou now pay a fare if you want airIt's not really fairFair enough, it's tough stuffIt's tough to get enoughAnd you laugh, you laughBut you can't get the staffHold onto the raftIt's my craftIt's finished, it's kaputIt's over, finito BenitoDead FredGone for a song like old Hong KongGone for a song