you have your very own number they dress your cage in it's nature once you roared now you just grunt lame pace around pathetic pound games
wanna get out won't miss you sensaround to carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks wanna get out in here you're bred dead quick from the outside the small black flowers that grow in the sky
they drag sticks along your walls harvest your ovaries dead mothers crawl here comes warden, christ, temple elders environment not yours you see through it all
wanna get out won't miss you sensaround to carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks wanna get out in here you're bred dead quick from the outside the small black flowers that grow in the sky
here chewing your tail is joy
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