| Trying to search for zen
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| On this dying Earth we’re in
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| No denying my thirst for skin
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| With the heat frying, the curse begins
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| My taste carrier seeks the blood of an angel, how can I mangle?
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| Make terrier teeth from straight tearing her meat
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| Yates buried her deep, I don’t wanna eye everything die like the great barrier
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| reef!
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| It’s a bad moon, mad gloom, giving stab wounds
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| Sucking a soul up like a vacuum
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| Monkey, apes, and baboons in the classroom
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| Wanting to be upper class and cash coons, mass doom
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| Then I woke up, choked up
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| Glad it was a dream and now I wanna go pick a lotus
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| But the grass is low cut, no fluff
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| Wish I could say hocus pocus
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| With the bees and pollen in focus
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| So the food we need isn’t bogus
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| Fake feedings, race leading to death
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| Everybody’s race leading great eating’s for breath
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| Dreams based on real spill quick to leave you in a chill
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| Told my doctor this, he said I need Jesus and a pill
|
| See, it doesn’t matter what I want
|
| I think what is done is done
|
| Everything is dead to me
|
| Losing my ability, to be
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| In touch with reality
|
| Oh, I need Jesus and a pill!
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| I wake up to a new day
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| Then it all comes crumbling down
|
| I don’t wanna be here anyway
|
| Well here it comes again
|
| Let it in
|
| Taking a journey through the depths of my psychosis
|
| Multiple personalities adamantly ferocious
|
| At first in agony, angrily cope a closed fist
|
| Err on the side of caution if you try to approach bitch
|
| A mental breakdown, suffocating with hate now
|
| No escape for heavensake, there ain’t nobody safe now
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| I’m thinking of killing 'em all, afterlife I’m sending 'em off
|
| Outta line, outta time, so out of my mind and outta control
|
| Tell me why am I thinking these thoughts
|
| Skin burning at the sign of a cross
|
| Somebody help me I think that I’m lost
|
| Edge of insanity I have been tossed
|
| Mayday, got a man down, better pray for safe space now
|
| Stay away or become prey when I rampage and I spray rounds
|
| Pharmaceutical holocaust, a literal lyrical Molotov
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| Serial killer like Michael with a knife and the rifle I’m psyched and I’m
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| popping off
|
| So let me say this, you don’t wanna say shit
|
| End up another screaming victim on my playlist
|
| See, it doesn’t matter what I want
|
| I think what is done is done
|
| Everything is dead to me
|
| Losing my ability to be
|
| In touch with reality
|
| Oh, I need Jesus and a pill!
|
| How can I be so sure that
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| Anything could help me now
|
| I wanna believe you
|
| And if I fall
|
| God help us all
|
| Everything is dead to me
|
| Losing my ability to be
|
| In touch with reality
|
| Oh, I need Jesus and a pill! |