| My head hurt, I need to lie down
|
| Play me too loud I need to pipe down
|
| Lights down, my hair is up
|
| My stare is like, looking into the fire’s eyes
|
| Come around my way, you’ll be
|
| Burnt to a crisp like that
|
| Before you even get the chance to fight back
|
| I know what you’re thinking
|
| «Why so quick to flip it? |
| Bones, now you always tripping»
|
| No, I’m just fucking sick of clones thinking that they kill it
|
| Stalactite dripping out your flashlight
|
| Glitching you in flashback transmission
|
| I suppose this is the ending for the story that you call your life
|
| Take the binders, rip the spine, every page is getting burnt
|
| Now every breath you take is mine
|
| Burnt to a crisp like that
|
| Before you even get the chance to fight back
|
| I know what you’re thinking
|
| «Why so quick to flip it? |
| Bones, now you always tripping»
|
| No, I’m just fucking sick of clones thinking that they kill it |