I have business sitting in the hearse
I'd prefer it hidden in the dirt though
I have business sitting in the hearse
I'd prefer it hidden in the dirt though
I have business sitting in the hearse
I'd prefer it hidden in the dirt though
I have business sitting in the hearse
I have business sitting in the hearse
I don't see friends
All I see are grave-robbers
I'm a degenerate
I set 'em up
With a fake cover
I don't see friends
All I see are grave-robbers
I'm a degenerate
I set 'em up
With a fake cover
I always strived to die tight-lipped
Eyelids shut with the clutch of vice grip
Wise idioms tend to surmise that the iris
Are windows to the soul
Only thing I bid to show is that it's frosted with a nice tint
Fist fights picked in a rage by the courtyard
Sip my drink in the shade of the orchard
In-line image isn't straight if its torn apart
They only mourn a part of me
Bore a hole in the oracle quick before they know
Organic portions of the plastic corpse I battled for
At the door knocks second thoughts
They kick it in like hinges rust
Cinders brushed off when they torch the things that hinder trust
I twist and run
Leave the contemplating in the dust
Gathered on the challenge to go find myself and dig him up
Don't haul my body bag just zip it up
Break the teeth
Bury all my hatches when they in the fucking grave with me
I don't see friends
All I see are grave-robbers
I'm a degenerate
I set 'em up
With a fake cover
I don't see friends
All I see are grave-robbers
I'm a degenerate
I set 'em up
With a fake cover