Many more times than I can come clean Something wicked trips my good eye And down I crash Babbling a slippery tongue among close friends All I need is just ignition fuel to rock this engine I can't deny, I love the way It serpentines through my veins Paralyzed at 25 I love the taste, hate this place Ebony creepers barrel down upon the Earth in my 80 Proof is positive of something much darker at hand Saturation bombing of my senses Slackened by the stingiest of missions To the derision of my life