I'm a civil war surgeon, babe
I'll hack your trouble off
My official diagnosis is:
Time to cut your losses
[Hook]
The lookout sees for miles, and miles, and miles, and miles
He doesn't sleep for anyone
Runnin' down a hill now
We were born to k** now
Reach for the ether
The reaper doesn't slow down
I'll make it all go away
You're having a heart attack
I'm gonna bring it back
Ride like Poseidon
And glide through the blood bath
I'll help you ride the wave!
[/Hook]
It may just be proclivities to who*es & sour mash
Your insides are all reeking with
The scent of rotten trash
[Hook]
[Hook]
Ride the wave (x3)