That’s the sound of my phone losing breath
Its soul being lost to death
Hey homie, wait, hold me
I don’t wanna be done yet
Hey show me, how to be holy
I think the devil’s got it goin for me
I don’t wanna burn in hell
For all the misplaced priorities
Displaced authorities
Conformity with double standard
Encased in anonymity
Fake, unable to stand out
Cold hearted, Bone tatted with crime
Soul crafted around the bonsai temple,
If you know, you know, purple and white candles
In my post motem you’ll find out more devils
than you ever knew were true, origin of adams tempting
with a mind bent like your own, it is more than you can handle
the distraction from the growth at the tower of babel
cain n abel, Isabel n Jacob, remove the label
it is my time to go, my speech is beginning to babble
my battery is low
