How much can I take till I call it quits?
How long can my legs keep running like this?
Until they give in, until my liver gives up?
My lungs are blackened, but that's how I like 'em
I'm pushing the limits, until they push me back
I'm on the edge of the mountain calculating the gap between a rock and a hard place
A palace and a pit, but I remember death never lies to the people who lived
Death never lies to the people who lived
Death never lies to the people who lived
Death never lies to the people who live
You can have credit for all the Goddamn work that I did
You're welcome

A time capsule casket closed containing all the words I ever spoke
And I wonder if anyone would care enough to dig it up in ten years
It's weird to think about: everything pure will eventually be relevant even if the artist isn't here for it
You could die as a failure, but future figure because whatever current culture couldn't comprehend it
It's a poet's curse
And it only gets worse
They’re only open to your words A.D. like a convertible hearse
The most underground artist – the one that is buried in this dirt – has always felt buried under the pressure of the world
Because we're all in debt to serve good deeds
We're all in debt financially
We're in the depths of being destined to die, but we're born to live so we live to leave
Because we'd rather be elsewhere
Fuck it
I'd rather be someone else and I'll leave my environment before I let it define myself
I take the landscape-goat that forever defines my fate
The freeway leads to the grave
It's all down hell from here, unless we're road kill on the way