(There has got to be some kind of explanations that have to do with another science, certainly nothing that we know about. And I think that other science is in the area of Parapsychology.)
He was the son of man, son in tan, son of a czar tar man
Bleeding arm bands with pulsating arm glands
Vegas showroom, opiate charm, Owl Farm fan
In an armed ranch, charge the heart, reboot
Not the phone, spores on 4G boost
Poppy pod, somniferum, morphine use
Opiate induced, fluorine tubes
Hand tied to mollies, we all jumped, died hydro roxy
Cut died on oxys
Rhino doc, I came back toxic in the form of a line of pox seeds
Wrinkles in my scalp from time on Cropsey
Typewriter by a window, disheveled fried on pot leaf
Blunt guts, replicate Persian rugs, blueprints and pot seeds
Cooked soda and stove top heat
I stash styles like vials and stone washed jeans
I'm in hoes, coke blondies
Surrounded by b**hes higher than Hole's Blondie
Jak who cares? Nobody
Hell bat, I'm bat sh**
Flushed out, nothing held back
Drugs spell Jak
My mouth microwave codones and gel caps
Cops came in my garage and smelled gats
Found me slumped over the belt strap
My body chalked in house
Heawatha walk about
See my fingertips through walls of molted mounds
Walk on clouds
Westchester psychiatric center governor walk the grounds
My solo career about as successful as Walter Brown
Such dope sh**, haters s** whole dick
Lines burn like cut coke, up dosage
Sniff crushed codones, even the ones coated
Grow plants in the same dirt the guns go in
I work like Japanese car factories on some Gung Ho sh**