Quality Control

I crawl myself into the basement, I dig an imaginary hole

Okay alright, so real that i can taste it

Okay alright, it’s quality control

I’m tripping so I dip into the bathroom

I’m doing long division on my phone

Okay alright, so real that I can taste it

Okay alright, the fucker should’ve flown

Fall down, into another, arms out and now they’re closed

I doubt, I’ll get another, gold one, you’ll never know

Past pacing, looking busy on the pavement

I draw an electrical line

Okay alright, so real that I can taste it

I’m such a sucker for an ordinary time

Okay alright, so real I take a bite

Fall down, into another, arms out and now they’re closed

I doubt, I’ll get another, gold one, you’ll never know