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I think that um, um there are more people that are bad than there are good I feel miserable when I'm bad Yo' yo; Every dialectic shapeshift's a makeshift shield of hatred I spit fire Quick fire Twist fire Rollin' roach from a ripped flyer Tip toeing over ego trip wire Soft steppin' on eggshells as hell beckons A bed of black rose petals on my twenty second With twenty seconds on the clock I kept many guessin' A game of death threats met with defiance so I bring stones for the riots While the right side of the brain extends through computer science Flicks fictionalise our lives In alliance with the Queen in the core of the hive Breeding parasites The wise read and analyse the scrolls Stolen souls dissolve in alcohol Master drunken pole A cold-hearted defence in this dungeon hole I hold hope for the globe in a closed palm Locked in a gold heart Lost and emotionally charged SongtexteI chart progress Through this pain staking process Elimination of the grotesque no less This overblown mess left grown men stressed and suicidal Cyanide drips from the vinyl My vital signs fade I'm trapped in a pessimist mind-state A frozen emotional ice age You can't be everywhere at once doing everything for everybody Everybody can't get what they want It mean that they... Everybody can't get what they want Yo' My words form pictures Jigsaws built from torn scriptures A warped image A collage of small figments Inter-related Creative with raw English I walk with born sinners who talk business (Yeah, yeah, how much?) Subs and permanent fixtures Medicine man sippin' elixirs Wettin' my lips and lickin' the Rizlas Listening to enemy transmissions Sittin here pickin' the splinters out of my flesh The fresh script inker Indica stick sticky finger Balanced on the brink of drinking binges While friends sink syringes Into their skin and it could all end in an instance With no-one to discipline the infants Walking the ledge I stay nimble as ninjas My pen nib inches Closer and closer Ghosts in my dome stay closed in a coma Crows overhead Twisted as the trail we tred Most failed or fled Ended up jailed or dead But never me Eyes in the back of my head For any enemy Ready for them backstabbers Suited and booted on this black Sabbath Truly polluted by the pain I paint the blues on a blank canvas We're all judged by the same standards Saints, gangsters, to base heads in St. Pancras It's plain madness My brain strains to make sense of We blaze ten spots This games deadlocked He can see us whatever we do What ever we do he has such... And he can still see us when we're bad And he can still see us when we're bad I feel miserable when I'm bad I think that um, um there are more people that are bad than there are good And um, if you're good you'll live forever And if you bad you'll die when you die Aus Songtexte Mania