Nixon Land.
Yet I find myself strange in a black jacket so different it is frayed in different
strips like a frito bag around a back emblem but not like a motorgang
so black and so crystal in clothe so vellum and air.
But not like a motorgang I did them what was lost.
With guns and swords I bet them off my land for an incoming
conspiracy. They come like they gods and they break them in them
arms my arms and stab me in the head in a hellish art class room
and they think I am going to stop with broken rips and accept my doom!
I am not going to die in this room.
I will break your necks a loom.
For I go nothing else good to do? No, I always had plans and yet you are never
going to stop this frayed black jacket vellum nor air crystal clothe back emblem
wielding fighter of God. I got faith and you ain't.
With guns and swords and new politics.
I come strong and hard.
In a black jacket so different it is frayed
yes frayed like that cut out art. But dark and refined.
Dark and refined you got to be.
If I come for you-how dare you come for me
to kill me.In a heart I pass your ugly traitorous stares
for whatever nonsense they made you ate,
You make war on music you have no faith-a monster just what you are.
Make war on art you have no faith-just a monster is what you are.
Wishing just for another Nixon Land to do whatever wrong to the breathe of
democracy that you can!
I am not going to die in this room
In a loom of thundering I come
like a cosmic Thor and kick your ass
and more.
Through summer and flood, winter so cold
bodies untold. Spring unfold with crypts that they bleeding
so solid eh gold.
Bring the fire to a close make the sword of gold into the heaven and into the hold
you may have thought you could have ever stopped me with " whips" and all your larn"a"cy of happiness and goodtimes but never will you make it to the point of God
you will just be a bitch hung on your own rod
by own hands
by you owns hand
a bitch hung on your own rod
by your own hands.
BY your own hands.
Yet I find my self in strange jacket yet again.
As you have hung yourself and I ride off again!
Lunacy to think that you can control humanity to be monsters.
People will always think alone and make art and music
and nothing stripping of democratic harmony will dissolve it
to make the world one massive desert war field with humans fighting
monsters
hum-hum even if you continue to assert a point-that is nothing by nonsense
and loss at what a human is at all.
Just because you eat bad food; you are not God!
And yes keep kind to not hold onto the rod
when you think in these points of nonsense you are GOD!
strips like a frito bag around a back emblem but not like a motorgang
so black and so crystal in clothe so vellum and air.
But not like a motorgang I did them what was lost.
With guns and swords I bet them off my land for an incoming
conspiracy. They come like they gods and they break them in them
arms my arms and stab me in the head in a hellish art class room
and they think I am going to stop with broken rips and accept my doom!
I am not going to die in this room.
I will break your necks a loom.
For I go nothing else good to do? No, I always had plans and yet you are never
going to stop this frayed black jacket vellum nor air crystal clothe back emblem
wielding fighter of God. I got faith and you ain't.
With guns and swords and new politics.
I come strong and hard.
In a black jacket so different it is frayed
yes frayed like that cut out art. But dark and refined.
Dark and refined you got to be.
If I come for you-how dare you come for me
to kill me.In a heart I pass your ugly traitorous stares
for whatever nonsense they made you ate,
You make war on music you have no faith-a monster just what you are.
Make war on art you have no faith-just a monster is what you are.
Wishing just for another Nixon Land to do whatever wrong to the breathe of
democracy that you can!
I am not going to die in this room
In a loom of thundering I come
like a cosmic Thor and kick your ass
and more.
Through summer and flood, winter so cold
bodies untold. Spring unfold with crypts that they bleeding
so solid eh gold.
Bring the fire to a close make the sword of gold into the heaven and into the hold
you may have thought you could have ever stopped me with " whips" and all your larn"a"cy of happiness and goodtimes but never will you make it to the point of God
you will just be a bitch hung on your own rod
by own hands
by you owns hand
a bitch hung on your own rod
by your own hands.
BY your own hands.
Yet I find my self in strange jacket yet again.
As you have hung yourself and I ride off again!
Lunacy to think that you can control humanity to be monsters.
People will always think alone and make art and music
and nothing stripping of democratic harmony will dissolve it
to make the world one massive desert war field with humans fighting
monsters
hum-hum even if you continue to assert a point-that is nothing by nonsense
and loss at what a human is at all.
Just because you eat bad food; you are not God!
And yes keep kind to not hold onto the rod
when you think in these points of nonsense you are GOD!
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