Remains feeding flames, that's the name for it, BANG, BANG, BANG, ***** slang of a gang that can never hang, of course I sang when it rang, what's it taunting to be, broken glass soaked my past, nothing haunting to see, hear the beat and repeat, notes close to most, desire highers singing choirs, post close to toast, live limousines clear the scenes, signs we've been a team, now dream leaving clean, never mean to what it seems, the fiend in my spleen now is steamed, with cream left, rest as we nest on king and queen sets, spiritual, we pray to lay way to keen breath, though we never know, rather go in CLEAN DEATH.