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lyrics

Today I crawled out of my usual sarcophagus with unusual confidence, with an ominous type of closure enhancing my posture with dominance – but by 10 AM I had realized life, again, sucks. Sorry, that’s a pessimistic mind accused of worse than lining plucks and maybe scraping the silver off and replacing it with something a little better…something a little blacker - somewhere between the shade of a 2003 Nissan Altima and my ex-girlfriends’ description of my heart. Regardless, I’d place it back in the sky then tap it on the shoulder and say, “You’ve got a job to do now buddy!” Then sit back and complain my ass a thunderstorm so insane the rain would choke Mother Earth at her jugular vein. But I shed that exo shit a little while back and road rage is so unattractive to strange girls. Fuck it, I need a deranged girl so somebody hand me my remote mines and let’s do this shit. Impulsively, I toss my Black & Mild out the window – even though I knew half way through the action I was littering; I just didn’t care. Oh, did I mention I’ve upgraded to paperless statements at U.S. Bank? I guess I’m going green but it’s that real nasty shade…like wet baby shit. Foaming at the mouth on some rabies tip chewin’ threads of fate like wires; maybe it suits me fine. I could think of worse ways to go – double-back flip through a flaming table like a pro. A 30-pack of Coors Light is my suitcase; maybe this is a sooth-say. Ain’t no sayin’ it two ways – I’ve got a case of the Tuesdays.

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from Satan's on His Way & He Wants His Drugs, released June 21, 2014

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Touch A.C. Louisville, Kentucky

Woke up in escape pod. Unsure of year. Must rap.

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