The class difference is making us all crazy,
The gifted fall back while the rich stay lazy,
Maybe we don't know the value of buck,
Shot 65 times until you're all out of luck,
The dump truck is full of issues and I'm ready to unload,
Broke the code with a show to make ya'll explode,
Interfering dreams, wake up and hit snooze,
The day is almost over and you're missing the news,
But it's too broad to cast, the facts that are true,
Who is killing who? Hey chill, I'm not saying it's you,
We all play the part of winner and loser,
Sooner you face the music and adjust the tuner,
The anger will feel petty; we rock to lift the heavy,
While you're stuck on trying to pick locks with a machete,
Already broke down once, second time is never,
Forget the anxiety let's bring something clever,
You better be at your best or let the larynx rest,
And watch me turn a battle veteran to medical mess,
In three minutes flat, I do my best to rap,
You into thinking I still care about that old boom bap,
But I have better things to do, with a kick and snare,
Make your ears bleed until you scream, it's not fair,
Glue is on a mission to make you think,
So get your voice ready this is where you sing....
The haunt is gone, but this song has taken its place,
For sanity's sake, we brought drums and bass,
Came; back to Chicago to play her piano,
With a little bit of wit we can run your stereo
From a distance, the cynics, crave it to be simple,
No doubt I'll dumb it down for all you john Kimball's,
Just meet me in the middle with some country funk,
And don't say a word, like its 1970 punk,
This erupt-ion is seconds away, from radio play,
And paying our bills, while I crave, a darker sound,
We have to keep it bright, so hold on, hold on hold on tight,
Leaving the poor me to put fact in the fiction,
A sober window story to kick your addiction,
Slipped in, to your conscious, cured the depression,
Fighting ends to make mends to our intention,
Mixing excuses with creative juices,
Jump in lily and pick up the reclusive,
Like this, she's got the elbow room, for bow pits,
In an orbit with drum kits that leave the skies split,
No more bills cause going crazy is free,
Follow along and throw your hand in the sea,
Completely, healed now of the sock drawer blues,
The song was only part me, but you don't need clues,
No rules, No etiquette, just heartbreak and fun,
Run the streets with wings and lullabies for the sun,
No helping is the theme, for the infected hearts,
And winners that never sleep end up playing the part,
So it's a good way to say goodbye when you've begun,
Listen.....Ssssshhhhh this is how the spider sung.
Xzzzzzzn zn
The gifted fall back while the rich stay lazy,
Maybe we don't know the value of buck,
Shot 65 times until you're all out of luck,
The dump truck is full of issues and I'm ready to unload,
Broke the code with a show to make ya'll explode,
Interfering dreams, wake up and hit snooze,
The day is almost over and you're missing the news,
But it's too broad to cast, the facts that are true,
Who is killing who? Hey chill, I'm not saying it's you,
We all play the part of winner and loser,
Sooner you face the music and adjust the tuner,
The anger will feel petty; we rock to lift the heavy,
While you're stuck on trying to pick locks with a machete,
Already broke down once, second time is never,
Forget the anxiety let's bring something clever,
You better be at your best or let the larynx rest,
And watch me turn a battle veteran to medical mess,
In three minutes flat, I do my best to rap,
You into thinking I still care about that old boom bap,
But I have better things to do, with a kick and snare,
Make your ears bleed until you scream, it's not fair,
Glue is on a mission to make you think,
So get your voice ready this is where you sing....
The haunt is gone, but this song has taken its place,
For sanity's sake, we brought drums and bass,
Came; back to Chicago to play her piano,
With a little bit of wit we can run your stereo
From a distance, the cynics, crave it to be simple,
No doubt I'll dumb it down for all you john Kimball's,
Just meet me in the middle with some country funk,
And don't say a word, like its 1970 punk,
This erupt-ion is seconds away, from radio play,
And paying our bills, while I crave, a darker sound,
We have to keep it bright, so hold on, hold on hold on tight,
Leaving the poor me to put fact in the fiction,
A sober window story to kick your addiction,
Slipped in, to your conscious, cured the depression,
Fighting ends to make mends to our intention,
Mixing excuses with creative juices,
Jump in lily and pick up the reclusive,
Like this, she's got the elbow room, for bow pits,
In an orbit with drum kits that leave the skies split,
No more bills cause going crazy is free,
Follow along and throw your hand in the sea,
Completely, healed now of the sock drawer blues,
The song was only part me, but you don't need clues,
No rules, No etiquette, just heartbreak and fun,
Run the streets with wings and lullabies for the sun,
No helping is the theme, for the infected hearts,
And winners that never sleep end up playing the part,
So it's a good way to say goodbye when you've begun,
Listen.....Ssssshhhhh this is how the spider sung.
Xzzzzzzn zn