A terse versed vulgar purse snatching witch

I'm on the back of the bottom of your itch

I'm not mad I'm not glad and I'm your bitch

You can't pick up the pieces of my spit

I'm a glitch I'm a human stitch stain

Let the words sit in my stupid sick brain

It's all tricks all tricks all tricks on tricks

Don't try to fit me where you won't fit me

That's it

Bad fit

Be a winner in a sorry 'sitch

Get up and blow em off like the bubbles in your spit

Fill up the raw cracks

Be a good Zach

Build up my heaven like I built my hell shack

A hungry ghost with a sorry sack

At first I saw the lighting than I heard the thunder clap

The heart wants what it doesn't need

To fight fire with fury and full choir

You're not Dracula honey bee

The sun burns to the hum of pale vampires

Hot blooded and running free

We're not sick no we want mama mama

Out out with the money chief

Tell that fat headed pig we want our tomorrow

I don't think you give a damn

The idol kills the idol grows

I don't think you give a damn

This ain't for kicks this ain't for show

I don't think you understand

We're on the skids we're on the go

No mercy for hopelessness

Entitled kids of booming drones