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letra de return to malice - coin locker kid

when i’m waking up
pour the coffee in my cup, place the pills within my mouth
let the coffee cup erupt
i reckon you might say i’m never truly living
i’m awfully cold so is my skin giving out?
and if you’re driven, you’re driving the nice whips
so i’ll trade in my will for a pointed ice tip
you shove it in my back
the place for all the quacks is where i can relax
while people pay the tax
and i’m like brenda. she’s a little doll who
opens up her legs
with her back against the wall
i always reckoned that my eyes were too small;
but
i’m quite complacent
with
seeing nothing at all

—

did you know? did you know that?

—

when i’m laying down you can bet i got the crown same crown underneath the same frown melancholia skirts the bend’s round bent her over burrowed underneath her skirt digging deep until it hurt
and tore her shirt, and the ruckus confused until she can’t remember if she rusts or gets used
or loses composure

—

let’s
abuse
the god
and i can gurantee
human nature gets odd
even odder when you count the chickensh-t and cannonfodder in the corner i
can
spot her in the kitchen. with the mourners
“be gone ya
young basterds!” grace is in a chain, giving head to the masters
quite strange. they fill her up and then trash her. dump her. thrust and pump and pace faster
and i ain’t the one to outclass ya
pastor
fills the needs and then feeds. mary pops her cherry then bleeds. her pops is scary; i leave
and you can bet i’m never to explain the reason that his daughter is holding a second brain in her stomach

i’m ready for the plummet

i’ve yet to reach the summit

—

you’ve been a very bad girl. fry you up in the kettle. false in legs false in thighs false in t–th breath hair and eyes you’ve been a very bad girl fry you up in the kettle false in legs false in thighs false in t–th false in br–sts

- coin locker kid

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