You've got your hand on your head
But the signal is dead
You've got your foot on the gas
Driving you straight to the top
A carnaval of assholes that will never stop
Stacking doghouses upon sun rooms
A gym a jail a slice of something in between
A broken needle a hidden beach treasure
Roll over your bloated form it's so paper thin
And i can see right through you
I can see the other side
It makes me wish that i was blind
Holiness
Emptiness
Dragging me by the collar
On your shitty parade
It's not my mess
You're rubbing my nose in
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