letra de family suicide gun - intercourse
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sifting through the pulp, looking for a reason to keep on living
a horror that’s implied every day
the dollar bill should read “we are f-cked”
life gives us the gift of stockholm syndrome
death can’t tell us apart
oh what a journey
these things left unsaid hang over my head like a specter
counting the burnt debris on the side of the highway
waiting for you to get a f-cking clue
you keep talking about boundaries and i
i don’t think you know what that word means
unforgiven in a blue collar burial ground
passed down from father to son
and sent back to god for a refund
father time еats us all from the assh0l- up
i look on in disgust
wait my turn
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