| What a night, sodom right type
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| Spilt words and accents like blood from fright night
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| End of the market day, fruit not ripe
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| That’s getting thrown in the gutter, slippers whisper sickness
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| Rappers get torn asunder with the quickness of lightning delayed
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| Latency thunder, ripping up a town
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| From beneath the grounds, under the deep
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| We lounge under the sound but we’ll travel on rupture
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| Unravel your structure
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| Gene code breaking down so battle of master strength
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| Need no weapons, spit shells, rappers get touched up
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| Only the strong survive, get shaken, arise and thus start to be taken alive
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| You’ll be taken alive route to demise
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| While our weed smoke to new highs of blue skies
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| The mind’s eye never lies
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| Closed and lost like god’s severed divine ties
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| Nervous, twisted, coarse enough and convoluted
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| Slightly edgy, messy, caught in the net
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| Left to our own devices, these thoughts we collect
|
| But after the soul purge, we emerge from the depths
|
| Nervous, twisted, coarse enough and convoluted
|
| Slightly edgy, messy, caught in the net
|
| Left to our own devices, these thoughts we collect
|
| But after the soul purge, we emerge from the depths
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| Yo, I stay livid, brain withered and face grinning
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| Chase women, race winning in this fake kingdom
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| Race to place faith in this bait system
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| Stray pilgrim, changing name 'til his fate gives in
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| Days spinning, out of control, time’s speeding
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| Mind feeling for hope, but my life’s bleeding
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| I write, read, and recite bereave that despite freedom my life’s leaving
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| Three times of the wind of this nice evening
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| I fight feelings, dry feeling, my frail skin
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| My plight’s flimsy like the tale of a fell king
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| Set sail to the blue yonder and hope for no return
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| Let’s be failing, she’s to wonder if our souls should burn
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| I close the urn, toes turned to the wind
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| False discern, these yokes are learning to sin
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| Hurt within crushed feelings of a lust lost
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| Last seeing us believing that we must rot
|
| Nervous, twisted, coarse enough and convoluted
|
| Slightly edgy, messy, caught in the net
|
| Left to our own devices, these thoughts we collect
|
| But after the soul purge, we emerge from the depths |