Messages

Messages...

The bastards in the yard, they circle the house and car

They'll make a check today, yet spend it on themselves

A hostage of cocaine, bump off buck knives

With skinny and rancid whores, or a child at the porn store

It's coming...wait for them to kill the innocent man

The kid next door, it's the finalization, we're the battered herd

It's coming...wait for them to kill the most in us

The riveting shock, for half a block

My synapsis is full of years and years and years and years

A hermaphrodite hanging in the window of cause

A borrowed theme song, a twisted tide

Throw me to the dogs today

I could care less now