Time to fucking fix up already.

In three months and a day your homes will plague you,
Your paychecks will haunt you,
And your love life will own you,
This is it,
We'll expect the cost.

Spring does not exist, neither does Jesus,
To whom inquires first.
While you sit their praying hard to a God that doesn't exist,
As your head follows down,
It's in your mouth.
Forty years, into nights,
Child this will end your life.
Forty years, of your life.

A bad taste.
A terrible sense of smell.
Fool yourself,
For the books your children bleed for.

Were going to throw the burning bodies,
Down the wishing well.

During a raping,
You can't get back your pennies.
During a raping you can't hold yourself on trial.

All we are, are fitter men,
Cast us as violent.
All we know can't hold us back.
Beautiful children with wreckless hands,
Will doubt them.