Текстове на песни:
Grief Fed Up

make me pull the trigga Another reason for me to have to poor my own swigga Thought I was posing for word up but a Fed took my picture Surgeon general

nurse the sicknesses of loss Instilled with fear and bleachy guilt Impatient winds up in her cloth The tired shoes are splitting up With weighty promises

up the door with negative aura (i'm fed up fed up fed up) You say the future is murky indeed.. I'm sick of hearing your gripe Open up the door with

Who fed them with the money He earned in those black mines And the food he could raise with his hands It's a sad day in Floyd County, Mr. Jones Yeah, the grief

True denial, Am I suicidal? As my pain mounts up I really can't tell anymore Now I am I'm left by myself Fed up by thoughts Will there be someone here

Dear God, The patient's best intentions have sadly faltered. Despite his newly installed, varnished brain, and being force-fed gallons of viscous demented

Crawling through broken glass But I feel no pain, no pain at all Fed through the grief machine Just lifelessness within my soul My trembling hands on

red on the inside like a watermelon Everyone I grew up with patronizes me like a superhero then treats me like a villain But only vampires wear capes, only pharaohs are fed

red on the inside like a watermelon Everyone I grew up with patronizes me like a superhero then treats me like a villain But only vampires wear capes, only pharaohs are fed