The secretive type I like to creep in the night But I speak under my breath to be polite I'm talking about you Unconspicuous keep k**ing that sweet feeling The mystique's building I only speak to the freakishly sheep children For some cheap thrill thing I'll be willing to make purchases on my credit card As long as its of discrete billing I am expected to get murdered by bombs So I open up my mailbox with surgical tongs Rubbing antibacterial paste on my virginal palms Then it gets a little less complex in Oedipus words from my momz I've heard of the song by the guy What's his face who say's those things I love that song I think its called ambiguity And the music be Handed to you and me In the form of animal cruelty I'm heading to the laboratory To free some mice today Heading back to the lab To prove the skin color of Jesus Christ is gray Impressionable minds have nothing even nice to say Your brain is putty in my hands My man it seems just like some clay See I'm strange I'll take my time to rearrange Your frame of mind You'll want to be the Sage wait in line With the rest of them grape vines Swinging idiots You ain't busting no grape and making wine You ain't duplicating my rhyming b**h I'm older and dirtier than that ba*tard baby Jesus is Masturbating penises in an alley way where she just is Thinking that's enough and it is Asking can I live Is the way these asinine kids imply that they are dead Already they are Get in your car Release the breaks Put it in neutral I won't steer you wrong This way to the future Follow along Come follow me