The parasites are excited when you're dead,
eyes bulging, entering your head.
And all your thoughts.
They rot.
God and satan they gamble when you're dead.
Beams of light, one sprite the bourbon instead.
And all your thoughts.
They rot.
It was hot and time was sticking to my skin.
We're all the punch line to a joke that they won't let us in on.
And all your thoughts.
They rot.