The world is against US, we're born troops.
With malnourished souls that need more soup.
On the way to being rotten like warm fruit.
Its funny that they want US ALL in orange suits.
How are you 40 years old and never worn suits?!
Well, once a year, funeral and court cute.
We reap the full harvest of the war's roots.
The weeping brings an outpour of storm boots.
Fetal and alone we will mourn groups.
Why did Korn shoot and spill the Lord's juice?!
His brother's in the wind with a torn chute.
And the cord's loose.
His cross is heavy, he wears thorns too.
We must curse the lIEs with a sworn truth;
Swinging swords, the sound of horns just warned YOU.
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