GENOCIDE it feels so good
like you knew that it would
as you draw in the smoke
inhale till you choke
seeing Purple Haze rain
breathing firey pain
reality is a guise
viewed through red-rimmed eyes
exhale your thoughts
corrupted brains rot
on bad shit in the vien
stringy hair like egg chow mein
gotta get your next cop
your jonsin' stomach goes flip-flop
gotta get your next fix
throw it on the spoon and mix
the plunger goes down
your feelings start to drown
you gotta get high
gotta get by
or you might die
might die a death
induced by one pure breath
life is a drag
when you ain't got no scag
put a tab on your tongue
and your mind is flung
through hoops of fire
burned on a funeral pyre
watchin' the clock
tic...
tock...
wonderin' where's the cash for your next rock
where's the man with your bag?
fool better hurry, jones is startin to nag
in the hoods of the white collar
givin head for your next dollar
got an achin in your back
cuz your itchin for some crack
wanna sell your T.V.?
yeah I got some PCP
angel dust
cuz you must
get by
get high
or die

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