Bookhead

They love to know the story, more grody than Mr. Crowley For those embarrassed, to no holier than thou, Imoli habits Parrots to the goat, we bring 'em up to speed slowly On the low key, kindles is phoney D Tastes stale - see the world in shades of greyscale Right there in black-and-white, protected by chain mail Today's the day maids await to see a cisternum Took my little mens with her, told 'em love 'em, kissed him He's always sensitive, youngins is on some new stuff Can't sit still or focus, the time it take to do enough From the mean streets of the 'Can I get a dollar, dude? Above measure, the singular pleasure of solitude It's your poison, if you so choose, absorb it to the brain, shoot off into orbit How you know Octagon? Or much less? To get the good stuff, you gotta get out to the Amazon With any luck, you might could score locally Keep it on the hush when you're speaking on it vocally Then you gotta be on the in, a known member I think I still owe him a little something since November, whatever Who need credit when cash speak? Get it - sweating, sitting on his packets its last week We've all got our weaknesses, living and functioning with dead Some will end up fudging numbers, bugging and lunching instead. to the head Second best trick to get the chicks to the bed Uh, Ive been hit, Ive been Uh, Ive been hit, Ive been Uh, Ive been hit, Ive been Uh, Ive been hit, Ive been Uh, Ive been hit, Ive been Uh, Ive been hit, Ive been