Joyboy's in the lounge, resting 'tween parties,
poppin' pills he keeps in a packet 'a Smarties.
Work gets in the way, so he's on the dole,
a Party Professional Life and Soul.
Drinks 'till he's sick, thinks with his dick,
acts as if he's as thick as a brick.
Along the line he's lost his personality,
in a fight to fit in, it's another fatality.
He'll only say I Love You when completely fried,
and never let you know of all the tears he's cried.

It's just another night at Dysfunction Junction.

Up in her room, is Lady Screamqueen,
stands before her mirror practising looking obscene.
Dressed in black with a face like an albino,
drinking cheap booze that's unfit for a wino.
Mood swings from psychotic to morose,
trying to stop anyone getting too close.
How could she stand another's affection,
when she revolts at the sight of her own reflection.
So she screams and shouts, bathes in self doubts,
and covers it up with her lipstick pouts.

It's just another night at Dysfunction Junction.

Geekfreak's playing truth or dare with his demons,
ignoring the stench of his blood and semen.
Enough smack in his arm to launch him to the moon,
he sits and spins a bottle in the night-time gloom.
His devils tell him secrets he doesn't want to hear,
while he shivers in the clutches of a drug fuelled fear.
The line between truth and lie becomes blurred,
and he starts to distrust each and every word.
His eyes open wider than ever before,
knife enters his chest, and he breathes no more.

Could you meet the morning at Dysfunction Junction?