The Late Great Satan

Smoke outside I can only think of I can't find no believer,

I'm waiting time like I've never seen one,

It's passed 6 and I have deamons.

I'll wait outside at the door, I only think of, I can't find no beliver. The weight of life as you dig deeper in the cold mud of the deamon.

Smoking eyes of the southern deamon, he looks down as I dream of.

The weight of the world I can only see the sick rites of the evil.

I'll wait outside with the rope, I only think of, I can't find to beliver. The weight of life as you dig deeper in the cold mud of the deamon.

I can't find nothing else! Than dying out here like a rat.

I can't find nothing else! Than lying out here like I'm dead.

I, hide in my head.