[Intro]
Everything now, we must assume is in our hands
We have no right to assume otherwise

Art is a conversation
Art is a conversation
So what can I add to the conversation?

[Verse 1]
Fuck it, this, that, essence of the weeds
Off the chronic, I reflect on the disease
Some illness forever whether body or mind, I'm a broken record
For the record, I ain't holding shit back, that lil' homewrecker wasn't me
Fucking please, I can tell it don't hit you the way it fucking does for me
I'll fuck it up for free, it isn't fair but every promise doesn't keep
Can't count on them like a stub or the bud
Somethin' isn't there but I can feel it where it was
Taxes on our home that go ripping theirs to dust
These theocrats have crippled us enough
Thorn in our sides, front martyr but would never have their guts spilled
I've spoken to the cycles and that's how I got that stuck feel
I've heard from hermits we've been balanced on our bum wheel
A shitty game to lead the neighbours, letting mud heal
Cops be huntin' accidents, they seeing men as bucks still, we madly in love with it
Like, touch my capital and I need capital punishment, I have to see blood
Tell these territory lockers that's what has to be done
There's still gas to be burnt. you can't hash it with us, burn on your own time
Fuck you and your problems, bitch I own mine, you don't need my cosign
I ain't nobody nowhere no why and you should know why, I'm past that
That's the motherfucking past, jack
[Outro]
Who do I sound like?
Nah, nah, who do I sound like?
Who do I sound like?
Who do I sound like?