| Call it what you will
|
| If pressed and pressed again
|
| Then something surely spills
|
| Who cleans and who forgets?
|
| It’s hard to tell if I am well
|
| These spinning lights are disco hell
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift
|
| It’s not a load that you can split
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift to lift to lift
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift
|
| It’s not a load that you can split
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift to lift to lift
|
| Pressure combusting
|
| Aligned in redded growth
|
| We’ll choke, we’ll choke
|
| My teeth are nothing
|
| More than shreds of bone
|
| One __ will drain the blood
|
| From you eyes
|
| It’s hard to tell if I am well
|
| These spinning lights are disco hell
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift
|
| It’s not a load that you can split
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift to lift to lift
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift
|
| It’s not a load that you can split
|
| It’s not an axe you have to lift to lift to lift
|
| Keep myself in record shape |