Just jealous gods and mechanical insects, (pathetic)

Hair raising accounts of the future

Thoughts of reflection and silence and infest

These meetings won't satisfy all my instincts

Lowest of the lows, I can't rely on myself

Enough is enough, spirits dust off the serpents

Cursed are we who bare this face of rotten gums

And dirt filled teeth

Born with a face of disgust and a head full of panic

On a losing streak and it doesn't seem worth it

The sickest part is that I f*cking need this