| What’s it like to be a marble?
|
| Did I get something in your eye?
|
| She’s a referee, and I’m lethally
|
| Overdosed on pumpkin pie.
|
| Yes the future is mount delicious son
|
| But the leaf changes forms continuum
|
| My destiny is calling me, it says
|
| Jon Mess you should own a gun.
|
| Feel the room filling up with smoke
|
| Billowing, billowing up, holding on for the worst, rise above.
|
| (Can I get a piece of that?)
|
| Come down, … in my veins,
|
| (Uniquely post relapse)
|
| …, the whispers start to drill,
|
| (The quota and balancing act)
|
| The pain of second place.
|
| (Can I get a piece of that?)
|
| What’s it like to be an atheist?
|
| Are you okay with suicide?
|
| Well it’s baffling that my ears can bleed
|
| When I see your domestic thighs.
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| Yes the future is kush and bubblegum
|
| But I prefer wood to linoleum.
|
| My destiny is calling me, it says
|
| You’ll be fine if you take some Tums.
|
| I’m letting out, well I feel that I’ve dropped it all,
|
| I’m letting out, well I feel that I’ve rushed it,
|
| I’m angry, believe it, I need this just as much as you
|
| It’s complicated.
|
| Can I get a piece of that?
|
| Come down, … in my veins,
|
| Uniquely post relapse
|
| …, the whispers start to drill,
|
| The quota and balancing act
|
| The pain of second place.
|
| Can I get a piece of that? |