Messages (Superjoint Ritual)

Messages... The bastards in the yard, they circle the house and car They'll make a check today, yet spend it on themselves A hostage of cocaine, bump off buck knives With skinny and rancid whores, or a child at the porn store It's coming...wait for them to kill the innocent man The kid next door, it's the finalization, we're the battered herd It's coming...wait for them to kill the most in us The riveting shock, for half a block My synapsis is full of years and years and years and years A hermaphrodite hanging in the window of cause A borrowed theme song, a twisted tide Throw me to the dogs today I could care less now