Cut me into pieces and bury into the ground
Till’ I hear no voices, or a fucking sound
Music’s fucking dead
And leeches everywhere
Fucking faggots singing trash
I hope that this won’t last
Honestly, I like it
What problem brings me your silliness?
You can’t see this is gasoline burning my knuckles
Feeding my mind
I try to ride my own world
Where we get no concern
Cuz’ in these fucking times I feel
There’s nothing to do
Runaway, runaway