Shitstorm - Duck Duck Goose

My hands are pitchforks: they stab when I touch

Keeping you wide awake you’ll feel it all

Mary Jane my fucking whore

Til you sob and you whimper

Until I’m just done making my point

And it cripples and you struggle

And I’m creeping up and I’m shaking under the sun

Jack the ripper sneaking down the hall to your bed

Tearing flesh apart from your neck

Well I would stop with you but I’m feeling high

And no drug on mine can impersonate this rush in my chest

There’s a rush in my chest

Keeping the progress on making our day

And days keep dragging on

Dragging on

Dragging on

Til we’re all dead