[Mr. Yote]
Oh man landed
Finally my hands, standing
All eight of them

Crazy how I drag my name through shades of sand
All leading up to this here point
I don't mean to push tennies but I sit here moist
With drops drippin'

And not a single man has given me a "Hey shall I ask what shorts?"
Or you can give a simple welcome just to spread come forths
With mine you see I find a hint of rage filled force in me

Now I see my face lookin' frisky as I stare back with little know of where I will be in the next month
Since I see ye last I start swimming to the surface in the hope of finding new born mutant eaters

Little said living that I wake
Frank deep in the little green gritty speech must bake
All these places I feel pretty see I mean no hate
But all civilians that inhabit walk me clean the streets, eyes are staring

I really do not like it
It takes a burning itch within me scratching like theres ficus
And I'm sick of it

So if you wish to dig your dirty ditch boy
I promise that I'll bury you as quickly as I spit boy