Exiled
Chemlab
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(Get, God damn it!
Look here, get outta here, you son of a bitch,
I'll kill ya right there!
Will you get God damn move
When I say move, you motherfucker!)
Hundred dollar demon in my pocket
And a scrape in the hole
Digging up a bruise that darkens
Calibrated to go
Down, down, down
And your grip is slipping
Down, down, down
And the page is ripping
Wasting the world away at the bite of your touch
The wash of the passing days seeping out
Doesn't matter that much
Downing out, no sound,
Pouring out upon the ground
Raining down the drain
Down, down, down
Morning shakes and you're peelin' away
Down, down
Slowly, down
Metal stressed and it's shearin' away
Round, round, and around to the ground
And I'm stumbling, tripping
Down, jerk around
Down, and the record's skipping
And the record's skipping
And the record's skipping
Skipping
Skipping
Skipping
And the record's skipping
(Get up-get up-get up-get up
Get-get-go!)