Messages...
The bastards in the yard, they circle the house and car
They'll make a check today, yet spend it on themselves
A hostage of cocaine, bump off buck knives
With skinny and rancid whores, or a child at the porn store
It's coming... Wait for them to kill the innocent man
The kid next door, it's the finalization, we're the battered herd
It's coming... Wait for them to kill the most in us
The riveting shock, for half a block
My synapsis is full of years and years and years and years
A hermaphrodite hanging in the window of cause
A borrowed theme song, a twisted tide
Throw me to the dogs today
I could care less now
