Interpret:

Napalm Death

Album:

Enemy Of The Music Business

Serve my head on a plate 
Pulp my heart with ill will 
I did trust you, led to lust you, to be duped 


Thanks for fucking nothing! 
Serve my head on a plate 
Pulp my heart with ill will 
Sensed a mystique, turned to spent air? Killed it dead 


Thanks for fucking nothing 
Scraped the depths to salvage something 
Thanks for fucking nothing 
Drained my all, then dropped the bombshell 


True, we were not joined/ our every feature spliced 
Though you rushed in and took a lead 
Three words spouted 


This contagion 
crossed all divides 
caused a shift in protective focus 


Three words flouted 


Untimely end, I should've clicked? a sensory cut-out 
A spoiling of the harmony, of which we were about 
I don't despise or demonize, but I just know your form 
Walk right out and move along, and leap before you look 


Thanks for fucking nothing!