I am a lonely cynic I have a secret jar and a secret cover Because i dont want you to know whats in it Let alone whats floating in it at the top Convincing myself that sooner or later this has to stop But i dont know what it is thought, anything helps Cuz one day it decided to sneak its way in and f** up everything else Let it be felt The only reason i love winter is cuz everything freezes to d**h and then everything melts I love it because its circular, mainly I love the image of a dead crow, surrounded by a circle of daisies Thought process is hazy, but it comes out so clear, im crazy You can say thank you to the people that raised me Props to the middle state I outlined my entire life on a grey page and remembered to leave the middle blank And before I get aroused to spit I wander around the crib And polar fleece night gowns and wigs I am a clown pig Drown kids in brown sh** Then keep the body pieces in jars without lids Im down for the sh** till im out this
And when ill leave im like "Who's coming with me" No choice, the crowd is Because i count bullets and you count tips On stage with a hallowed out goat skull for where the crown is My goal is to make everyone who came out sick with imagery that triggers a full body dry heave without spit Lock you all in here then daws this [?], and make it go up in flames like LA houses With no social prowess At the funeral wake like "I need something from the basement that I can dip the prouts in Torching herbs Who rather watch the red rubberball bounce on the bottom of the screen and ignore the words Im hardcore berserk Sex, money and murder The first two are cool, but lately i go for the third This is the only thing that'll calm my nerves And it also happens that when I rhyme It can conjure up swarms of birds I take 10 [out-on-the-dirt?] naps nightly Revive myself and shake off Because the floor is dirt