| Coarse light and terror
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| Hatch daily, die nightly
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| Slipping life signs, he grip on a divine psyche
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| Stored in a poor peasant
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| War in his war essence
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| Speed’s nought to now in point four seconds
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| Your precious world ain’t healthy
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| The scar tissue’s towers burst
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| Burden in the skies, with an ill-fitting cloud of dirt
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| Skin snapping, white mounds of powder spurt out my shirt
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| Spelling out the words 'Young and Foolish' underground
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| A worse surgeon, swim clotted u-bends
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| As that scoundrel, with a mouth full of waterboard, weapons, and a snapped
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| scalpel
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| Demonectomies that dawn on the background
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| Full of cheap gaudy décor
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| You get what you pay for, I guess
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| Bad winner in botched operation shocker!
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| Turn to every page for the full story and grace the horror
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| Hover here, little ones, change the lock and bathe in honour
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| Palatial squalor made possible, place your offer
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| Speak with conviction
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| Sparks from the friction
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| Dark on your doorstep with prayerless redemption:
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| Destiny’s henchmen, faceless attractions
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| Poverty soldiers, chasing the fractions
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| Sinister reactions, closed in my captions
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| Cane like Chaplin, cotched up backbench
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| Posture is hunchback, full grown rugrat
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| Died then I come back, survival or combat
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| Rifles or contracts, lifelessly contact
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| Contrasts melt fast, thoughts go beyond 'drat!'
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| So clap, doh, cues voice of the locals
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| Learnt when I didn’t go school to be a spokesman
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| Venom of a marksman, moved to advantage
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| Scars to my eyelids, modern Will Scarlet
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| Charming composure, dressed up and garnished
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| Orphans of freedom, maidens and harlets
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| {Hook: Jam Baxter]
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| Stand on a corner with a bulletproof smile
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| Moon in my pocket, money to burn
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| I got roots in the ground and my head’s in the clouds
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| Sun’s on my dial and a new tin of worms
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| Ghost birds sing from a nest in their grave
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| North winds howl on a methadone sky
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| My hand on my heart, where the truth’s concerned
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| With this bat out of hell and a new tin of worms
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| My, how plush porcelain doll skull’s can break easy
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| And fuck me, this train still parades creepy
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| Screeching train doors sliding, better push forth
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| Here’s to the commuter that got his foot caught, splat!
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| Good sport, didn’t scream, penny for the bloodstain
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| Some strange, hate-fueled rebellion in love’s name
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| That’s raging on a bruck stage, the false wall falling
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| Keeper of a tinfoil curtain, caught snoring
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| Report him from a plastic chair, glued to an incendiary
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| Mile high monument, a glutinous confectionery
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| That looms in every rooms, so choose a suitable dispensary
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| One small step from that human of the century award
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| He saw glory in the futures of his enemies
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| The flawed war stories from the students of dependency
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| Sir, is that a centipede hugging a glass ceiling
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| Or a scared pair of scorpions stuck in a jar breeding?
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| Peace for the soldiers
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| Tea for the homeless
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| Hope for the hopeless
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| Guarding a crow’s nest, watching the progress
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| Earth’s like a hostage, held by its offspring
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| Dying a slow death
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| Thirteenth apostle, these are my gospels
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| Native narratives, eyes that have watched you
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| Words that can touch you, child of the flowers
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| Mushrooms and ginger, praise to the powers
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| Freedom’s inside me, screams in excitement
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| Freedom’s for real, man, I’m talking of a triumph
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| Me and these giants, standing relentless
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| Throughout misadventures, call me the tempest
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| Strength to the strengthless, preached in a temple
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| Worshiping elements, life is essential
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| Nurture your mental, learn from your mentors
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| Sharpen your senses, change your dimensions
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| Range over race lands, fresh from the basement
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| Culled from the hatred, caused by the matrix
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| Face my reflection, classless and aimless
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| Nomads and vagrants, heroes and traitors
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| Trenches and craters, death’s a hiatus
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| Hunt like hyenas, fight with your demons
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| Talk with your elders, walk with your elders
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| Talk with your elders, walk with your elders
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| Hook
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| Stand on a corner with a bulletproof smile
|
| Moon in my pocket, money to burn
|
| I got roots in the ground and my head’s in the clouds
|
| Sun’s on my dial and a new tin of worms
|
| Ghost birds sing from a nest in their grave
|
| North winds howl on a methadone sky
|
| My hand on my heart, where the truth’s concerned
|
| With this bat out of hell and a new tin of worms
|
| Candyfloss dreams as the roulette spins
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| Gambler’s eyes in the alcohol swirl
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| Drifting beyond any chance of return
|
| With a handful of thoughts and a new tin of worms
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| Ships capsised on a ocean of wine
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| Pirates sing with a bottle full of rum:
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| 'Yo-ho-ho,' from a state of no return
|
| With a handful of thoughts and a new tin of worms |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tin of Worms, artist - Jam Baxter. Album song The Gruesome Features, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп