I was wading through the floodwaters while you were waiting out a drought.
Do I have that kind of love, is that what it would take to see this out?
Hold your empty disembowled gas tanks up high, turn them into a bong or a still.
Rootin' through the gas stations, tillin' up our backyards, that's my rosy picture of the end times my friend
Bodies crumble 'bout as fast as a house in the sub and what you leave behind is an incorporial monument of time; whether by needle, your own hands, war, an empty belly, bus, or bug
We all go seperate and together and as such while I'm alive; show me love! show me love! Show me love!