| Still grinding teeth, trying to follow you home
|
| I’ll stop the world, cause this plan is slow
|
| Wait across the street in the parking lot
|
| The tree is dead, the front door is locked
|
| The moments I framed have cracked and crumbled
|
| Grabbed us by the throat, then I choked and stumbled
|
| This will never work, this will never work
|
| Check my pulse as I swallow dirt
|
| I’m cutting myself with my own morals
|
| I never meant to write about you
|
| (I never meant to write about you)
|
| The one contact that I loved so much
|
| But passing my own heart, what could possibly be within?
|
| Do you think about your actions?
|
| Do you ever wonder what the consequences are?
|
| Your licensed M. Bison got stabbed with a five dollar syringe
|
| Oh, the dullness of existence
|
| Your licensed M. Bison got stabbed with a five dollar syringe
|
| Oh, the dullness of existence
|
| I’m dressed in white, shine so bright, hair so tight
|
| And I have no sympathy for this
|
| He needs somebody else to leech off of
|
| (Somebody else to leech off of)
|
| The one contact that I loved so much
|
| But passing my own heart, what could possibly be within?
|
| Do you think about your actions?
|
| Do you ever wonder what the consequences are?
|
| Your licensed M. Bison got stabbed with a five dollar syringe
|
| Oh, the dullness of existence
|
| Your licensed M. Bison got stabbed with a five dollar syringe
|
| Oh, the dullness of existence
|
| Prescribed the throat, I need the antidote, it’s fucking mind over matter
|
| Prescribed the throat, I need the antidote, it’s fucking mind over matter
|
| Prescribed the throat, I need the antidote, it’s fucking mind over matter
|
| Prescribed the throat, I need the antidote, it’s fucking mind over matter
|
| My concepts are rested and manifest in ways you can’t forget
|
| My concepts are rested and manifest in ways you can’t forget
|
| My concepts are rested
|
| If you’re gonna wear the uniform you better sell the cookies
|
| Don’t come to my house asking for a handout
|
| If you’re gonna wear the uniform, sell the fucking cookies
|
| Don’t come to my house |