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You have your very own number |
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They dress your cage in its nature |
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Once you roared now you just grunt lame |
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Pace around pathetic pound games |
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Wanna get out won't miss you sensaround |
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To carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks |
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Wanna get out in here you're bred dead quick |
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For the outside |
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The small black flowers that grow in the sky |
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They drag sticks along your walls |
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Harvest your ovaries dead mothers crawl |
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Here comes warden, christ, temple, elders |
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Environment not yours you see through it all |
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Wanna get out won't miss you sensaround |
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Carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks |
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Wanna get out in here you're bred dead quick |
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For the outside |
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The small black flowers that grow in the sky |
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Here chewing your tail is joy |
