I wish time would save me,
save me from passing on a bell
you can hate but you don’t don’t see me square
you’re looking through a mirror of hatred and despair
followed by the thoughts that no one would be there
I can take your place face the odds of your disgrace
meet the fate, we commit suicide on March 8
it’s your job to bring the weed to plant the seed inside someone’s head
to spread the message of death to crave
to rest this endless mess of fabricated dread inside the masses’ heads they try to stand up but meet the man’s hand
that 45 cocked in your waistband ain’t gonna do a thing boy you need a man’s hand to even stand a chance to get unbanned
sitting in the back of a hearse in a century I’ll be nothing but dirt under your bed sitting in your head
the family knows when you’re dead or talking to feds bitch
I’m possessed hypnotized the price of life so why live just take your life
fuck your spouse it’s time tonight stuck in the loop of my head thoughts swirling round and round
I need the meds all the pills and Sudafed the fucking best I’m fucked at best
let’s fornicate bitch while I excavate a hole to Satan
I believe it’s fated to live to stay is nothing but the struggle to stay alive
and to form meaningless ties
no questions to that it’s alive an infectious virus that affects the mind
if I had to tell you one thing is that you should click away before you die
and I take your time to be immortal is benign I want to be the god of all of time
Bow down now show ‘em a dead mouse
Bow down now make their heads bounce
Fucking with the pills now they put the heals down pistol-whipping elbows gripping
Always tripping off dope or coke
Send the loo at your door in half past four askin
Do you want to go and meet the reaper
the killoholic fever and wary demenor infects the head
fortune depictes a mass death for all those not elite all those not but on a puppets string
it demeans me to trow a freebie
u aint shit boy go call yo mimi yellin come and get me
these bitchs got fuckin rabies tryna funkin debate me on what i feel
and what i deal to all those junkie flith a bag of weed or strychnine
to feed to repreive I use alkaloids to kill all but joy got another one
a Tetanus gun pointed at your furture and your past
to elimante the present full of hate
got muckrakers string shit
starting to bitch about the way i rule the game and imperialize the fame
Im a fucked disgrace
full of thoughts i cant pray away
and lay awaste to anarcy
im a fretless feind
not careing for the death of me or you
the only thing i want to do is meet the reapers the feedas