Текст песни
Twenty-five — a sentence read without a sound
Zero in my pocket, in my head, in the shaking ground
I live my life just like a walking mannequin
Chased the dream, wound up in a ditch where names wear thin
Just look at this planet — a circus with no ring
We hit like on a clip of army bullets tearing through a brother's skull, anything
Morals are a discount code inside some app
Meaning is a lot sold for a gasp, when the rot’s on your lap
I used to break people down to truth and lie
Truth is by the gutter, lie’s in every sellout’s eye
All they taught me — stale ramen on the fire of shared expectation
We’re bacteria on a ball that’s an ex-invalid of creation
We are nothing! — astronomical zero
All our wars — just acne on a meteor shower’s face, dear
All religions — spam on the laptop of a God up above
Who died before dogma blew up, with a shove
Drag your body 'round the ring — this is my rap
Your life’s whole purpose — let someone take a dump in peace, no crap
A quarter century — a quarter vein, I’ve counted every hole
We’re parasites, and the Universe just reached out and switched off the soul
Go be the president, build a children’s home with grace
A hundred years from now — they’ll level it with fucking waste
Your own grandkid won’t even recognize your tone
‘Cause your voice got smashed on the picket fence of starry unknowns
I’m tired of your important — important’s just the void in tow
Love? Serotonin for the weak in this crypt below
Friendship? A shared tab from a beer-soaked pit
For years I’ve prayed to my couch — it’s mute, like a cosmic split
I don’t want success, or bitches, or pills to confide
I need the silence of knowing the world is a rotten hide
But instead I loop around this track like a stray germ inside
A parasite without a host, who forgot why he ever tried
We are nothing! — astronomical zero
All our wars — just acne on a meteor shower’s face, dear
All religions — spam on the laptop of a God up above
Who died before dogma blew up, with a shove
Drag your body 'round the ring — this is my rap
Your life’s whole purpose — let someone take a dump in peace, no crap
A quarter century — a quarter vein, I’ve counted every hole
We’re parasites, and the Universe just reached out and switched off the soul
You think twenty-five is your prime?
I stared at the stars Right up until I realized
The stars don’t give a damn even about crushing us flat
We’re not even ants — ants build anthills
We’re dust that ponders infinity
Isn’t that a joke?
…Who came up with this farce?
Dragging! Dragging!
My pathetic I am
Parasite Parasite
In a dried-out universe’s sham
