i'm sick of all the leisure fucks dressed up in their 
sunday best suits. and all the kettle kids are stuck 
waiting for the next adventure. don't make the same 
mistake again. i wouldn't be caught dead creeping with 
the leisure fucks. i hate it when they get too close to 
me. so i don't let a single soul in, except the ones i 
did before and will again. don't make the same mistake 
again. i might be caught dead killing the last good 
talk by stumbling where my grandfather stood - watching 
his one son call "dad i really need some dough to get 
it gone" all the kids get too close, raping their 
spirits gut dry. but i got a hunch now - gold sounds. i 
know what you've done to clear a fucked up room. it's 
all inside those fingers. evil has declared that it 
will not be here too long but long enough to get some 
and keep the insects wanting more ground. we're all 
bitter fucks. the darkness in my heart grows when we're 
apart oh, no do you feel the way i do? i got messy 
hands from digging in to the weak ones, oh no do you 
miss me yet? i'm not bitter yet. to call in my teeth, 
taste the bitter now. to call in my bluff, get the 
devil out. all of the corners i cut when i was younger, 
i found, they were only there to remind me that i was a 
clouded lap dog attending the ambivalent. you can take 
the kids cause i dont really want them now. you can 
take the kids cause honestly im fucking beat. so down 
the stairs i crawled along and crept to your room. all 
day long, i watched the clouds move in to these strange 
formations. how's your hole? i knew it once, i lived 
inside that moment for years it seemed. all i did for 
you was all that i can do. how i'm gonna make this move 
- please don't be upset ...