I carry rock like Brock

Cold feet when there's crushed ice in my sock

Got a feeling, I'll end up fiction

Room of low light, drinking crushed-up prescription

On a cycle like bike caps

Relapse, need some serotonin in my synapse

My eyes are feeling heavy, coming up steady

Hit the ice, now I'm sinking in the settee

My mind's gone, taste is lead-y

Here it comes, not sure if I'm ready

Browsing flavours on the shelf

Yeah, shit's harmful to my health

But I can go fuck myself

Teeth on constant bite, I won't make it through the night

Gеt my name out your mouth

Crucified, had to pick myself out thе ground

And yeah I'm still full of hate

But something's up with my fate, so I'm following an 8

Something sour in my taste, a facelift and an eighth

Cuts on my face, paranoid that it's bait

Thinking how these thoughts flew-in

In silence I'm fluent, vac-pac I get a few in

Lost hope but I accrue it

In a dark cave with some octaves

Cutting open saves, but my path's already paved

Fucking crystal corrupted what I saved

Can't blame me for how I behave

Hamsa round my neck, and I'm looking for an 8

But I see a lighthouse in the dark night

Tides heading out, better luck in the next life