Bouncing round' a mindless institution for the righteously sane
Play it loud
Play that shit n' blow them speakers
Explosions surround my insides with cartoon missiles and true artistry
Frame rate, corrupt
Wishful testimonial contracting embalming with a side of hot vinegar
You must not be here at this particular century
You must be here at this particular void
Touch the fire
Lick the tongue of ash-grown slash-sown fash-i-own
Whether you weather the feather or whittle a little or blow the flow it doesn't matter because I don't know
Slide the note over the note noting that the tote is on his merry way to fairy day
I scratch my neck off and pull head into the lower half of my extra escaping toe
Where am I
Where am I
Where am I