Picking at Hives - Intellectual

[Intro]

Where the fuck is my soul?

Where the fuck is my soul at, man?

This is torture, this is the definition of fucking torture, man

Where the fuck is it?

I’m empty inside

Where the hell has my soul gone? I’m empty inside

I’m empty inside, I’m empty inside, I’m empty inside

Where the hell has my soul gone? I’m empty inside

This spell that I’m sold on – contemptuous pride?

I’ve delved into prolonging prevention of mine

I’ve shelved any growth – only picking at hives

If I felt any closer, I’d be a prick in a side

On the shelves with a poster, was my vision of life

The best of my hopes were that I’d live without lies

Impressed with the scope of what I didn’t apply

So this is the moment when I twitch and revive

The critical closing of my pitiful tripe

It’s piss overflowing – I see fish swimming by

I’m dripping with soul, but shit, I’m just getting by

I’ll trip in a hole and just sit there and die

Cause this was the whole plan but it didn’t fly

I’m pissed like an old man, and crippled alike

But a bitch doesn’t hold hands, just ripped up inside

Now I’m kicking a gold can, with a step and it’s right

And I’m spitting this slow jam, with intentions so bright

Betting the whole damn, and I’m clenching so tight

Don’t mention it though man, no pension in sight

So where the hell has my soul gone?

Where the hell has my soul gone?

Where the hell has my soul gone? I’m empty inside

Empty inside, empty inside

Where the hell has my soul gone?

Well I just better hold on

Where the hell has my soul gone?

Where the hell has my soul gone? I’m empty inside

I’m empty inside, I’m empty inside

Where the hell has my soul gone?

Well I just better hold on