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letra de lack of a body (feat. tom.me) - cher nobel

and the reaper was never a set of bones
really he was carved from stone
gargoyle live in the flesh
ed gein with it, peel it back, layer for layer
atone me for my sins i’ll be the first to suggest i get stoned
eyes of a crow i never forget a face
so don’t p-ss me on your night stroll
there’s a toll for the bridges i burn
most learn that the hard way
and the price you pay is, well
as priceless as your face will be
wicked like bare branches in winter
as twisted as midwest alleys
keep the gloves on me
just in case i need to catch a body
tom.me counting and slashing like tallies

how come every time i grab the desert eagle
i create an oasis of blood that’s deeper than a grave full
i’m darker than most so when they refer to me they call me medieval
any suckers that try to cross me never get a f-cking sequel
feeble, minded individuals fall easy to my control
just like an animal, i hunt ’em and cage ’em just for show
these mantles are full of dismantled limbs and preserved skulls
every halloween i treat these tricks like a hunting haul
so when i rest in my dungeon for winter i have decorated walls
befall willingly to the treacherous gargoyle
and maybe i’ll give you a proper burial by soil

as i sit on my human flesh st-tched throne
always alone, plotting smoking down a bone
i’m pr-ne to inherit the murderous devilish look in my eyes when the weed is blown
so i load up my lungs to the maximum capacity until i’m tombstoned
my cologne is the smell of bodies decomposing
probably cause i just let em air out in the open
toking i’m medusa looking in the mirror
i’m the hash slinging slasher smoking hash
sending victims to the after life
i don’t care about your wife or kid
i just care where the body gon’ get hid, you dig?
i guess that’s up to me, up in the trees
peek through through your window when you try to sleep
second glance i was just what your
fright led you to see
tom.me f-ck with your head more than lobotomy
autopsy hardly a possibility with lack of a body
more pumped than a shotty
more stoned than a cemetery
i’m more scary than bl–dy mary
cause at least that b-tch let you count to three

- cher nobel

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