I know were too tired to attack
Faking mac and slacks were all that
The world is react shackled and ominous.
We not conform to this
Not a matter of time in this
Shaman minded we finding a common scratch
In the batch of fists.
Cold weather is better,
To come clever and clean. The dark black,
The sweater, the k., Mean to the scene. Seems
Like I'm in a fuck but I'm rechargeable batteries operating on luck its not tangible.
Don't grab cause everything your touching is blackening white its death at a hundred and 40 words what it means to you.
I am the fangs to this age
With no piece I pierce there is no changing
This place the noise is all that I cheer.
So I can eat and move along to the carbon
Maybe by autumn I aint shot I'm off em but I aint carving em up
I got no conscious to fill
That's why it feels like
I could be the noise that would kill. I'm like
Might as well grab a pillow,
Let the down know you'll be there for a minute,
Tickle at your marrow, forget about the whole day tomorrow, empty all your friends you can borrow, make it your bones.
I bet a 20 wouldn't phase you
Would you like a carriage cause the worlds about you
You never see the black
You don't perceive the ash
You lead a half cached ad in a single flash
I'm feeling funny in my voyeurism
Watch at all times choking lines you design
For your fucking nitch..
And when the plates go crashing
Belly up your braagggggin thinkin its a rough dream pattern!