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lt headtrip - hang nails كلمات الأغنية

i got your epidermis on all fours. recruitin’ troops who spent their service in false wars. lookin’ for some virgins to call wh-r-s. if you ain’t fightin’ or f-ckin’, what’s it worth havin’ b-lls for? i’ll rattle some rancid words i saw on a stall door in a rest stop for a guest spot and spit it like god’s lore and outdo every verse on the whole alb-m and get the release indefinitely postponed. come on, can you really call it p-rn if it’s soft core? sprawled on the floor of a luxury suite in the waldorf astoria with a long sword and a dead office worker i used to call my lawyer. we both went too horse, but i ain’t drawn and quartered. how i am gonna appear in court represented by a pile of organs? we’re all docile or borderline obsessive compulsive and on meds so, therefore, docile, constipated, nauseous and suicidal but calm. you’re a caged animal with a floppy dorsal or a snake handler who gets paid in the antidote for the poison your palms are absorbing. my ancestors paid bad men good money to have jesus’ apostles tortured and eventually found it profitable to have their gospels printed and taught by sorcerers, while this modern demonic shaman’s corpse is worth more than the top resources from four continents or more. i guess that’s what i get for never following orders

i don’t read books, i read people. (you illiterate f-ck!) only crooks feel regal in a cop-state, prostate prodding, intruding fecal matters, cavity ravaging. no -ss -ssumed equal. rookie in the peephole, sleep in the lids. looking at me there’s teeth in my sh-t. what’s it to you what i keep in my fridge? that ain’t a problem all this bleach couldn’t fix. (you’re sleepwalking, trip!) i make my own p-rn, enslave my own sp-wn, i fake my own -rg-sms. i create my own wars, i trained my own army, i am my own fascist. all women and karma kids to the panic room. you want the full filthbeast? couldn’t handle him. you b-mpin’ raw dog? take your time. tripanation could save your life. pain tastes nice for a change. i don’t like to play safe. i microwave chainmaille. name sake drivin’ the snakes. i’ll be high at my wake dining on hang nails. i write my own hate mail, alive in the flesh of my victimized rivals. exist in morality’s grey scale. sp-ce-bound ape, fidgeting with dials. my veins pump p-ss and sh-t and wild bull c-m. who let the h-ll hound loose in the doldrums? this old man he made me play grown up. he played knick knack on my scr-t-m. it takes a villain to hide the truth’s loopholes, and a chisel to lie on your tombstone. so, take your vitamins try to be beautiful you got the filthbeast inside of you too, though

get r-t-rded. slip this -rs-nic bar in your jar and sip. chew the ice, eat the garnish, lick the gl-ss, sniff the stardust, embark on a trip. i park my ship in the harbor of styx and drown in my image. i’m a narcissist. i smoke partial spliffs and get hardly lit and lock all my windows and have violent fits. (my life is mad hard!) not as hard as my d-ck. buy your b-n-r from your pharmacist. when i made my monster, i created an impostor and the eighth undoc-mented cardinal sin. bleed for us or you ain’t part of this you wanna start some sh-t? i’m gonna starve your infant. die young come back and haunt its crib

we are the karma kids

- lt headtrip

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