Spit drips from the jaw of the witless witness
Cryptic colloquialism shifts the misfits
Dark all I do embark the shadows
Involved with my thought catalogue, analogue, rap catalogue
Keep my distance and fear resistance, hurt by persistance
That twisted web that tangles lies
Strangles my hope to waste and numbs the taste
And I'm forced to face these hate-crimes
Against the state of being
Feeling the weight-less-ness pressed between tubes
Feeling, reading the [bad word] Riding a bubble of sound proofing
The frequency making you
Set, shake with every boom
Involuntary muscle contraction
In-orientation, drinking musical gas feel euphoria
The sound pounds to make the dead flush
To have you a [bad word] with red rhymes and sad stuff