Consider that bastard dead Don't you try to rape me Out go the lights In goes my Knife Pull out his life Get on your knees Please beg me please You're the king of sleaze

What was I thinking Yeah I got a house in every city I got everything any guy could want But all I really want is you (Tyler what were you thinking) And girls outside my door When all I really want is you I feel so dirty in my hotel room I got a king

Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground These times are volatile There's no room left for you Dead, imploded Volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile This world is fucking volatile Dead and bloated Fuck the world, come

This is the final calling, feeding us apathy Bow down and serve your master - the new machine Refuse to kneel Wallowing and choking on this force fed sanity Back from the dead, this is the final calling Hands grip the throat of the system Against the

I'm gonna fall on my knees, I'm gonna raise up my right hand How Many More Years, have I got to let you dog me around How many more years, have I got to let you dog me around I'd soon rather be dead, sleeping six feet in the ground Say I'd feel much

Smoking in the dark cinema See the bad go down again And I was gripped by that deadly phantom I followed him through hard jungles As he stalked through the back lots Strangling through the night shades Oh, the thief of life Moved onwards and outwards to

But I know we're not alright I know we're not alright It's always dark as just before the light I know your silence is a deadly sound It's never easy when you're breaking down But I'll be there when you come around And everybody says they're fine

We must look past Control is dead in this blind world For we do what we hate Split from inside Betrayed by emotion What is in front of us Shadows are security They have become the solace Of my looking glass heart In search for certainty

I've got a good mind to give up living, and go shopping instead I say, I've got a good mind to give up living, and go shopping instead To pick up me a tombstone, and be pronounced dead When I read your letter this morning baby, that was in your place in

Bitch, you gon' die, hoe They be actin' for a fuckin' bitch I'm 'bout to shoot this bitch Out of the way kids Bitch, I smoked crack, now I count fucking racks Back to the smack, lickin' the powder bags Back on my bullshit, white bands, scoof it Three in