Из альбома: Two (Poverty)
Whiskey in eyes never the one with the grace vacant veins
Taking a turn for the worst it just feels right
I'll drink the fear on hand
I'll ride the wolf through hell
My shot in the dark
Without home
Without god
Damage skin No more sleep no rest Burry effects from the cause
I'm always sick & so now it just feels right
Clothed under the road Conscience low Risk aside