Lyrics:
to the ground
servants who blinded by power reined at the leash of our greed
gutted the earth for its bounty and worth upon the death of their final frontier
Stars in your stomach
The horns all howl for you
Where you bleed into the old beast
There I will wait for you
When I'm swallowed by it's gaping maw
white sheet and body bag
They say I'm gutted, I'm grimy, that's why I'm from the hood
I'm gettin' money in the mornin', boy, I know it's good
My BG's
Like a bleeding carcass
Hanging from a hook
Fucking gutted
To feed who will never be satisfied
Subsumed by exploitation
Constant death commodified
a thousand hours
From time to time I'm overpowered
By tiny shards of looking glass
It shines up well but never lasts
How did we go from that to this
I made
in a bar room, Lord
Turnin' them songs into two-by-fours
Dreamin' 'bout the day that I'm sittin' by the fire
Huddled with my honey in her Country
date
Get money by the millions, fuck a day rate, nigga
Your bossed up swag got 'em drooling like a new born babe
The dollars in they eyes got 'em
date
Get money by the millions, fuck a day rate, nigga
Your bossed up swag got 'em drooling like a new born babe
The dollars in they eyes got 'em
I feel buried
Suffocating on the dust
Falling through the cracks into my mouth
Cough out the sick
It will never work this way
Gutted by
my tomorrows won't save me today
High heels clippin' like clattering cans
You'll find the mark in the shadow of a man
I've been wronged by my wrongs
glorious pulp
By faith I justify my endless craves
A litany of stifled screams, gutted peaks so enticing
Hear this harmony
A litany of stifled screams,
troops to their knees
Begging for relief
That will only come in some form of death
Choking on blood, ripping apart
Gutted corpses, stale the stench
of black earth, gutted and uncoupled from the patchwork
Buried by a seven year cherub in the backyard
Epitaph and all
Disciple of the cycles and sciences,
estate
Boy, let's escape (la la la, la la la)
When you feel blue and like nobody got you
I will stay by you (la la la, la la la)
It ain't too late, but
[Verse - Violent J]
In the name of the Witch, I cut the head off a mule
I gutted it out, put it on and then I wore it to school
That ain't the only
The whole third floor of the hotel gutted by the blast
And the street below showered in shards of broken glass
And all the drunks pouring out of the dance
of Emilia-Romagna. It’s a warm September morning and the piazza is crowded with people, watched over by the lofty bell tower of the 12th century Basilica of San
third floor of the hotel gutted by the blast,
And the street below showered in shards of broken glass,
And all the drunks pourin' outta the dance halls,
not your world
Of course I’m a bit gutted now it’s done
But it doesn’t feel right without the sun
Woah, I don’t wanna call it a fling
But you’re not my
When I finally die, won't you bury me in
The same suit that you married her in?
Tell them I was murdered, murdered by a gun
Found, taken down by my
The whole third floor of the hotel gutted by the blast
And the street below showered in shards of broken glass
And all the drunks pouring out of the dance
The Los Angeles Times is going to be read
By a man named Carlo
He will die carrying his wife
(who cannot use her legs) to the bathroom
I will sit in
ensued
Elizabeth's mood
Tempered by the craft of a vitreous moon
In slick black iciness it grew
To consume
The wench Her tower tombed
Tending to Her
Hanging by a thread, got nowhere to run
Walking on a wire and you weigh a ton
Where are all your boys? All that's left is one
And when I fucking
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