I’m a civil war surgeon, babe

I’ll hack your trouble off

My official diagnosis is:

Time to cut your losses

[Hook]

The lookout sees for miles, and miles, and miles, and miles

He doesn’t sleep for anyone

Runnin’ down a hill now

We were born to kill now

Reach for the ether

The reaper doesn’t slow down

I’ll make it all go away

You’re having a heart attack

I’m gonna bring it back

Ride like Poseidon

And glide through the blood bath

I’ll help you ride the wave!

[/Hook]

It may just be proclivities to whores & sour mash

Your insides are all reeking with

The scent of rotten trash

[Hook]

[Hook]

Ride the wave (x3)