Istasha, this shit fucking—

I hold the keys to the gates

I'm kicking with cleats of decay

I feel like collapsing a brain if I caught 'em doggin' at me

I still got the rot in my veins

And a force who's blocking my fate

You're like a Faustian bargain

A demon dressed in a veil

Soul pitching out the fog

Horn seeping through the winds

Mind whistle like a siren through the trees and brought 'em in

Contesting with the light

Mind wrestle with the host

Hug a parasite

Follow hollow rabbits down the drove

Doom is calling

Ringing but the service out of bounds

Stuck in turbulence and churning out the mind into a mound

How the brain is paralyzed with no shot of survival; it's volatile, impolite

A pair of pliers and violence

Metal tickling on my sinus

Sight is blinded by the tireless rattling

Imagining whether the butcher is silent or just in a meditative state of a dedicated lonesome tyrant

I'm tired of dialing in math for hypothetical rats in my head

I hold the keys to the gates

I'm kicking with cleats of decay

I feel like collapsing a brain if I caught 'em doggin' at me

I still got the rot in my veins

And a force who's blocking my fate

You're like a Faustian bargain

A demon dressed in a veil

I hold the smoke until I'm purified and

Not sticking to my lungs

Get it out of my skin

Get it out, get it out, get it—