Kidneys aching, good vibe is breaking, soul is shaking, everything is
there 4 the taking but we'll rather sit baking... killing of till the
last braincell, and this is one of the few things we do well, this
goes hand in hand with your soul you sell and have no story left 2
tell, boy aint this fucking life swell... cant even get decent rest at
night, shit my man-this aint right. every evening with your pillow you
fight, not a soul 2 talk 2 in sight, no one 2 see you fall from
might... hey there old mate, doesnt being a junkie sound great, could
this be my fate or cold revenge from karma served on a silver plate?
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