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