Patrick Bateman - Manic Street Preachers

He’s a real cool guy and he’s a hero of mine

Travis, Rhinehart rolled into one cute son

Less than zero a grotesque nightmare

Subtly disturbing like normal behaviour

I understand nothing and I cannot speak

I’d walk in the park but the trees are diseased

No sweetheart and I am too confused

I only love my watch and my snakeskin shoes

I feel so small in the supermarket queue

People seem to laugh at my choice of food

My personality is held together with sellotape

A loose fit just like a numb junkies hate

I pretty my face with all this cream and stuff

Ugliness inside much harder to cover up

I lack the thought to care about politics

Just do what I like ain’t that democratic

Genesis, Huey Lewis, Filofax, CD5

A backdrop to discuss over expensive wine

Didn’t even know when or why I should stop

I feel so stupid like a joke that belongs

I guess all psychos are made out of money

I cannot be saved as liberals keep telling me

I don’t wanna be understood I just wanna kill

Out of blandness I am your everyday thrill

Patrick Bateman

We are babies crippled in Christ

Patrick Bateman

Therefore I must be god

I must, I must be god

I touched your lips but now I just paint

Surface reflection all I desired babe

I am melancholy, flower cutting through stone

I am a crime, everybody has at home

Papers hate me but they need my behaviour

The dignity amongst Hollywood trivia

Escape is so cheap of alcohol and whores

Mines the sanity of exclusive gun laws

Art critics say pornos easily obscene

Late show retards dice clay is true poetry

They’ve never tried living underneath the water

That’s real end of the century nausea

Patrick Bateman

We are babies crippled in Christ

Patrick Bateman

Therefore I must be God

I must, I must be God

Patrick Bateman

We are babies crippled in Christ

Patrick Bateman

I fucked God up the ass

I fucked God up the ass

Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman