Third Coast Temple
If I am mad, it is mercy
To be alive not starting blankly
And stern as a soldier while, as you get older
Your callousness drags you right up to your hideous end
All alone in the web you spin
If you're alive, it's a wonder
That the current hasn't pulled you under
And dragged you down 900 feet
From the air that you breath just to exhale the bullshit that you seem to speak
And brag about all the pain you wreak
Invertebrate, too weak to crawl out of the mud
So insolent, you fill your mouth with other's blood
Bloody water seeps into the sand on the third coast
And pools around the feet of a tall, broad shouldered man
The town's reflection's like a crumpled up paystub
He's making little plans, little plans, little plans
Hang my reservations out to dry, cause I've got enemies to make before I die