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lyrics

I work third shift. First gear worn wet. Translucent intruder fresh. The neutered, improved bereft. Berettas made of mesh for the troops. Lead for the suits whose proof’s on they breath when they loose. Oops, I’m in cahoots with the sinners, loose cannons and animalistic tragedy protagonists and coups. Don’t have me sick Banana on your crew. He’ll handle you like two turntables and a sample that’s been used. My only sleeping aid is drinking. Face a bottle, chase the toddler to its sinking grave and bring me what I’ve conjured. And I’m honored to sponsor my awful, audible involvement with a hogtied sow but I don’t wanna talk right now. I got a gang of dopplegängers game face, and not to name names but I’m puttin’ a bounty on they remains. It goes: Headtrip, Domewrecker, Filthbeast, Patrick. That’s my imagination. Have at it. There ain’t no magical bastard laughing at us behind the fabric. There’s only my projection of my manic. As holy as the sex life of your pastor. I’m bulldozing the death rights of a man who built his home on what he’s damaged and his scandals. My habits got the best of me so long ago that I no longer know if I’m whole. But who knows shit? I don’t. I’m growing in hopes that my ex dies alone. Somebody cried, “flow.” Another sobbed innards and his brothers got sicker while our mother played dinner and she trudged through the winter. And my lover’s with a bitch, but I don’t covet what’s in her ‘cause she’s dumb enough to fuck him and she’ll come to me when it hits her. Who’s your great friend you can count on when you’re beaten? Who’s that sadist that’ll splay your ass to pieces? Please, it’s not in our agreement. Keep the fuck out of my habitat. You don’t want me in your dreams, bitch.

And the world will know the monster I’ve grown by my alias, and I’m just its doctor, its failure.
The world will know the monster I’ve grown by my alias, and I’m just its doctor, I’ve failed us.
The world will know the monster I’ve grown by my alias, and I’m just its doctor, its failure.
Or the globe won’t notice what I’ve offered, and honestly I think they’re better off without my monster.

credits

from Comedy of the Filthbeast, released June 27, 2017
Produced by Headtrip
Additional instrumentation by Defpotec

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Lt Headtrip New York, New York

filthbeast

we are the karma kids

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