A terse versed vulgar purse snatching witch
I'm on the back of the bottom of your itch
I'm not mad I'm not glad and I'm your bitch
You can't pick up the pieces of my spit
I'm a glitch I'm a human stitch stain
Let the words sit in my stupid sick brain
It's all tricks all tricks all tricks on tricks
Don't try to fit me where you won't fit me
That's it
Bad fit
Be a winner in a sorry 'sitch
Get up and blow em off like the bubbles in your spit
Fill up the raw cracks
Be a good Zach
Build up my heaven like I built my hell shack
A hungry ghost with a sorry sack
At first I saw the lighting than I heard the thunder clap
The heart wants what it doesn't need
To fight fire with fury and full choir
You're not Dracula honey bee
The sun burns to the hum of pale vampires
Hot blooded and running free
We're not sick no we want mama mama
Out out with the money chief
Tell that fat headed pig we want our tomorrow
I don't think you give a damn
The idol kills the idol grows
I don't think you give a damn
This ain't for kicks this ain't for show
I don't think you understand
We're on the skids we're on the go
No mercy for hopelessness
Entitled kids of booming drones