don't tell me you didn't see it coming don't tell
not one word from that shit stained mouth of yours
when we decide the form of punishment we are greted
with
This is cancer, right? Whe you walk into those empty
every time i punch that clock i feel another layer
...and we're feeding the trigger happy with fucking bullets galore...
Is there something you need to tell me? Otherwise stay
Sheilding my face with my very means of survival. The
i think it's the last one for a while.... because
I hope for your sake, you don't speak to me
So your whole idea is to sit there and let
this is it, and that is all, and i'll still
i can't be that mother fucker who sits and cries
All for none, do I smell that fresh stench, so
» More on Backstabbers Inc.