BRAD IS JUST A HOLE. (DEDICATED TO BRAD FROM THE NOVEL THE SLUTS BY DENNIS COOPER)

[Music: A distorted, pulsing synth bass and a gritty, mechanical drum loop begin. The sound is menacing and industrial. Trent Reznor's vocals are a bitter, processed whisper.] 
[Verse 1]
Click the link, I pay the price
Just a picture, just a slice
Of something perfect, something blank
Another number in your bank
I read the forums, I see the lies
The jealous comments from the other guys
They say they hurt you, say they own
The little messages you've shown
But I know better, I know the truth
I see the sickness of your youth
[Chorus]
[The song explodes into a wall of heavily distorted guitars and crashing live drums. The vocals become a raw, desperate scream.] 
I WANT TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE OF YOUR SKIN!
I WANT TO SEE THE HELL YOU'RE LIVING IN!
YOU'RE NOT A PERSON, YOU'RE A HOLE!
I'LL PAY MY MONEY, LOSE CONTROL!
YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING DOLL I RENT!
EVERY CENT I EVER SPENT!
THE SLUTS ALL WHISPER OUT YOUR NAME!
IT'S JUST A SICK AND TWISTED GAME!
[Verse 2]
Your manager says you're "indisposed"
Another session, I suppose
Another screenname, another scar
Another night in someone's car
I trace the pixels on your face
A beautiful and empty space
I write my fantasies online
I make believe that you are mine
And I cut deeper than them all
I'm the one who makes you fall
[Chorus]
[The chorus hits again, even more chaotic and layered with industrial noise and feedback.] 
I WANT TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE OF YOUR SKIN!
I WANT TO SEE THE HELL YOU'RE LIVING IN!
YOU'RE NOT A PERSON, YOU'RE A HOLE!
I'LL PAY MY MONEY, LOSE CONTROL!
YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING DOLL I RENT!
EVERY CENT I EVER SPENT!
THE SLUTS ALL WHISPER OUT YOUR NAME!
IT'S JUST A SICK AND TWISTED GAME!
[Bridge]
[The music cuts to a quiet, tense electronic pulse. Keyboard clicks and modem sounds are sampled. The vocals are a close, obsessive whisper.] 
Brad... is he real? Did you see the brand? He's mine. I was there. Don't believe them. It's all fake. He loves it. He loves me. I'll prove it. I'll upload the fucking pictures...
[Outro]
[The music slams back in, heavier and slower, like a death march. The vocals are distorted and monstrous.] 
NOTHING
YOU ARE NOTHING
I BOUGHT YOU
I OWN YOU
NOTHING...
[The song collapses into a long fade of screeching feedback and static.]

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[Music: A distorted, pulsing synth bass and a gritty, mechanical drum loop begin. The sound is menacing and industrial. Trent Reznor's vocals are a bitter, processed whisper.] [Verse 1] Click the link, I pay the price Just a picture, just a slice Of something perfect, something blank Another number in your bank I read the forums, I see the lies The jealous comments from the other guys They say they hurt you, say they own The little messages you've shown But I know better, I know the truth I see the sickness of your youth [Chorus] [The song explodes into a wall of heavily distorted guitars and crashing live drums. The vocals become a raw, desperate scream.] I WANT TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE OF YOUR SKIN! I WANT TO SEE THE HELL YOU'RE LIVING IN! YOU'RE NOT A PERSON, YOU'RE A HOLE! I'LL PAY MY MONEY, LOSE CONTROL! YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING DOLL I RENT! EVERY CENT I EVER SPENT! THE SLUTS ALL WHISPER OUT YOUR NAME! IT'S JUST A SICK AND TWISTED GAME! [Verse 2] Your manager says you're "indisposed" Another session, I suppose Another screenname, another scar Another night in someone's car I trace the pixels on your face A beautiful and empty space I write my fantasies online I make believe that you are mine And I cut deeper than them all I'm the one who makes you fall [Chorus] [The chorus hits again, even more chaotic and layered with industrial noise and feedback.] I WANT TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE OF YOUR SKIN! I WANT TO SEE THE HELL YOU'RE LIVING IN! YOU'RE NOT A PERSON, YOU'RE A HOLE! I'LL PAY MY MONEY, LOSE CONTROL! YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING DOLL I RENT! EVERY CENT I EVER SPENT! THE SLUTS ALL WHISPER OUT YOUR NAME! IT'S JUST A SICK AND TWISTED GAME! [Bridge] [The music cuts to a quiet, tense electronic pulse. Keyboard clicks and modem sounds are sampled. The vocals are a close, obsessive whisper.] Brad... is he real? Did you see the brand? He's mine. I was there. Don't believe them. It's all fake. He loves it. He loves me. I'll prove it. I'll upload the fucking pictures... [Outro] [The music slams back in, heavier and slower, like a death march. The vocals are distorted and monstrous.] NOTHING YOU ARE NOTHING I BOUGHT YOU I OWN YOU NOTHING... [The song collapses into a long fade of screeching feedback and static.]

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