| Warblin' in unison
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| Gods in the lamp shade
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| Buzzin' round the bulb and engulfing in black flames
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| Sculpting the landscape
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| Sinkin' in a steam cloud
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| Three miles, sippin' pink liquid in the dream lounge
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| Slumped on a chaise longue
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| Locked in a lavish room
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| Bruised blood brains outside on the black and blue
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| Parachutes gather in the skies that we rattle through
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| Mechanised metal eyes wide in a panic room
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| Dogs howl at the stench of this verse
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| Spinnin' earth, spinnin' worse in the dirt where we lurk
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| Swimming, life’s quite rosy again
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| Tides turned as the lines blurred lure with the modus extends
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| A stones throw from the cinema screen
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| A slow focus, atrocious
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| The flow blows linear beams
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| Live quotes, man I’m riddled with these
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| A live quote, right nose
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| Tide slows on Gilligan’s dreams
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| Squirming a burst freight
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| From a circle of birds murmuring
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| Perched in a burnt tree
|
| I’ve been deep in the dirt lurking
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| The scourge of the Earth
|
| Evenly bleeding, was worth murdering
|
| Murdered it weren’t me it was, him
|
| My Jam flingin' doppelgänger
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| Tin headed ink smidge
|
| Smudge of forgotten matter
|
| Squashed to the cosmos
|
| Cracks in his rotten bladder
|
| Screaming out «wa what, wa what» like he’s got a stammer
|
| Never the walls with the filth of your body, spews
|
| Enemies run to the hills in atomic suits
|
| Who’s seen Jacob?
|
| He’s late for the comet suit
|
| Caged in a hobbit zoo
|
| Taped in a manger, to rocket boots
|
| Fly now little one
|
| Time goes fast when you’re flying with Scissortongue
|
| Siphon the billabong and extract the diamonds
|
| Priceless, ride with the periscope tyrants
|
| Silence
|
| For the leech to your left
|
| Tryin' a wrap his leather bound head around death
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| But it’s blessed
|
| I’ve been in these beat up creps in a suit
|
| Moonwalking on this greased up ledge
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| For a minute
|
| And I ain’t gonna slip 'til I’m finished
|
| You can’t weave wings with a string of defeats
|
| Flingin' free tickets to the peepholes
|
| Drilled to the floor
|
| To watch you burn
|
| Spinning Earth squirt filled from his core
|
| Feeble in that ending zone
|
| Birth of the tyrants
|
| Snipers, I spy a mighty fine person
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| Fives times exciting
|
| Life for white lie
|
| Arrive on light bikes and like the tribes worship
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| Time for a purge of the honesty bank
|
| It’s properly rank but still my philosophy stands
|
| And that’s a one a penny ticket to the rocket I man
|
| An ocular scan
|
| It’s ether in the oxygen tanks
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| Yeah
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| The kid hates sirens
|
| Brick walls and blindness
|
| And skipped town
|
| Skipping the pitfalls, enlightened
|
| Bring forth the tyrants
|
| Poorly drawn monsters
|
| Scrawled on the back of a scrawny sore conscience
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| Spot the imposters
|
| Pins in their squashed eyes
|
| Hog tied demons
|
| At least they were on time
|
| Bonsai trees and the midges that climb them
|
| Flattened in a second when a fist hit the island
|
| Five knuckles settle on your chin
|
| Like a hench war
|
| Savage in a second
|
| City rising death chord
|
| Death sports bellow in this interstellar downpour
|
| Send more victims to the gallows where I count swords
|
| One sword
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| Two sword
|
| Three swords
|
| Four swords
|
| Seventeen shine in the rack by the front door
|
| Heaven seems shite so I stride out to hunt more
|
| One more barb done, that’s what the tongue’s for |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Borrowed Time, artist - Jam Baxter. Album song The Gruesome Features, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп