Where the moss grows out When the people come I can take the cops I can kill dem the things When Im feeling bad I can lock my doors I can fuck my girl I can Paris out What the death it is? Stop the powdered skies Let the people wash Let the vultures fly Where the Res is at? What the fuck is that? Ima drive away At the door of black The bloom of doom the height Of fitted masks and barely ask To bask in caskets in the fast Of gas to pass the hide The rain is barely what it used to But the birds are fed I always wonder why my head darks And Im hating others The Earth in cellophane the plains in veins Of human science Ive probably hurt a tree or two OK Massive as the breath of totems buried Im rarely thinking bout the animals Im stacking No this isnt hippie Think without the villain Maybe youll be famous Maybe we can change this Later we can argue Melting all the weapons Vision quest the country Cry into the sun Fuck Carry what the fuck we wanna be about Walk until the soles of us is burning The masses never care when youre an idol And passive as the feathers of the grounded
barely, fuck, re, cellophane, powdered