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letra de funeral - the trophy club

land of america, land of america
hands up hysteria, average american
young and i’m stupid, c-cky not arrogant
dirty laundry you don’t like that i’m airing it?
move in silence on that threaten your parents sh-t
moving islands yeah i’m lost but apparently
pilot pitched the plane, ill crash to insanity
pontius pilate like i practice my vanity
start a riot losing my sanity, im a lion
jungle its damaging, look to the system
i might start dismantling
look to the kids and pray one day they’ll handle things
someday ill handle things, one day ill be okay
i never live comfortably, i hope that you’ll be okay

welcome to my funeral
my skin’ll melt i might decay
welcome to the other-side
these angel wings won’t go away
welcome to my darkest thoughts
these chains just seem to change my brain
welcome to this h-ll enjoy yourself
its filled with lots of pain
you don’t understand, no you don’t understand me
i can’t even stand, no i can’t even stand me

death is immortal, that sh-t never happened
or maybe it did? and we stuck and its tragic
taking a p-ss and i’m drunk and i’m laughing
looking around like d-mn what is my status?
am i alone? or a wolf in pack?
where is my home? i don’t know just a vaga
sleep on the plane and the pilot is napping
crashing feel like i’m crashing
canny the feeling allow the abstraction
parachute stuck and the seconds are p-ssing
counting the moments the tunnel collapsing
flashing, the lights they flashing
look at my life i got god and my p-ssion
vices they tighten the t-tans are clashing
demons are screaming inviting like savage
feening and bleeding through flames and the ashes
struggling breathing the oxygen lacking
all of the people i only imagine
muscles they tighten, conscious contraction
then the drugs hit, body relaxes
feel like its magic, it is not magic
brain has been wired, create a distraction
great the pain greater reaction
spending yo life divided by fraction
father son and the spirit galactic
into eternity soul is just p-ssive
and then its past like an hour gl-ss

round of applause in da bleachers
round of applause for my sneakers
outlined in chalk i don’t need ya
co sign a deal with no features
i opened the seals with my fingers
peel back the doors and the ceiling
hands on the wheel while im feening
f-ck yo emotions yo feelings
thoughts and domineer jump off the edge its appealing
someday i hope that i see ya
wade at my funeral, smoke with the preacher
wake like i’m sleep with the singers
wait for my place as the leader
wait for the day that i lead ya
dead in a box nice to meet ya
dead in a box nice to meet ya
fly as f-ck rocking adidas
under god pledging allegiance
under god fighting these demons
under god fighting these demons

- the trophy club

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