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letra de psychosis - cook thugless

[verse 1: apstrakt]
walking with a walkie talkie feeling c-cky
in the midst of a mist deeper than the red fire exit
the end’s on
weight lifts, heads shift
‘cuz i’m wearing party hats while riding public transit
it’s the end of autumn at the bottom
of the pill bottle, got ’em
with my drugs and i throttle em’ i’m
f-cked up like a right winged dyk-
and the boom box blasting nitrate
and the sight trails
off when the e hits
zanies and deep sh-t
and can’t see straight ‘cuz my head’s on with gaff tape it’s
far too late for me to get my sh-t straight
you see i can’t comprehend anything my doctor says
it’s like i’m drowning head down over water
every day that goes by gets a little bit harder
every puff i smoke gets a little bit hotter
my throat strings are grey making sh-t hard to swallow
it seems like i’m kind of stuck in this haze
where time is streamlined into one big parade
an endless to sell sh-t
hardcore billy mayes
of dope and c0ke and snorting research salt soaps
and god gropes in hopes that you brought the rope
when you can’t cope or sort all the lines that you wrote in court
when the jury said that i was guilty
put me away ‘cuz my conscience is filthy

[group chant]
cook- thugless
cook- thugless
(repeat x3)

[verse 2: apstrakt]
turn me sideways, up into a staircase
lock me up, my d-ck is numb and i think i’m a racist
i keep having thoughts, dreams, burning epitaphs
blacking out, force trauma, brain matter, horse cr-p
it’s up my heart beats heart palpitations
teresa falls up the stares blankly at the sp-ces
between the eyes my broken mind exaggerations
my body’s getting desperate i need rejuvenation
mu grandpa’s in a salad
he’s a veggie brain-bread
jesus got him fish and chips and now he’s just a grateful dead
from the soul up, ash inside a gold cup
while the living sl-tting count to three for a good nut
but f-ck with family under a bus i’ll find you
open up your throat and climb inside to watch you burn, jew
c-section
stab you with my erection
then stalk you to bed just to make you ‘gun get some
zimba zumba, gracias por la rumba
stomp you in the mouth like you a mothaf-ckin’ goomba
brain doo-doo and a bag full of bad juju
walk a mile in your shoes off a cliff so i can end you

[jeff p.]
earth angel now will you be mine?

- cook thugless

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