Cutting Tool - Intellectual

[Verse 1]

Is there a way to speak of this?

Is there a thing that can be known?

Some form that can be met or left?

Disgust: discuss

Because they were born to their places and grew there

They should thrive on oxygen pumped into them

But they don’t, they just shine in their juice

Oh, I must find my

Cutting tool, cutting tool

Lead me astray then take me home

I’ve been all brown or black or green

Awash with air, amok with mud

It’s all in error

Gassy and sour, oh, they won’t be forgotten

They sit sеlf-appraising, self-serving, self-loathing

I havе no more use for them, let me be rid

Fetch my

Cutting tool, cutting tool

And now I could have more to say

But this mistake must be my way

I’ve learned in terms that pass away

They must be gone

Walk through that door at this moment, you’ll find me

A bloody thing slumped in this chair, held together

By thin, mucous membrane and sore, oh, so sore

With my

Cutting tool, cutting tool