My hands are pitchforks: they stab when I touch Keeping you wide awake you'll feel it all Mary Jane my fucking whore Til you sob and you whimper Until I'm just done making my point And it cripples and you struggle And I'm creeping up and I'm shaking under the sun Jack the ripper sneaking down the hall to your bed Tearing flesh apart from your neck Well I would stop with you but I'm feeling high And no drug on mine can impersonate this rush in my chest There's a rush in my chest Keeping the progress on making our day And days keep dragging on Dragging on Dragging on Til we're all dead