lost the fight, lost track of everything i liked
disassociation baby it just went up and spiked
blank slate of glass in a dying world like
anything i was, no longer identify or feel inside
all the stormy lining of my stomach coincide
hell of an appetite, teeth on a mighty bite
stored in the gut in the belly, not quite
tons of fire, spice - torched up it tasted so nice
still say it too much, still scared all too much,
if i get it in the stomach i run like a bitch, hide and such
fear rots my belly like i feel it too much
it's always been thus, lost track for a bunch,quit writing me much
now i’m quitting every other habit
and serving you lunch