Tekster:
Acid Bath Old Skin

dry shell, a funeral chant that our eyes can open wide enough the pulse quickens and we dance we eat the brain and pray this celebration of old skin

burn the dry shell, a funeral chant the pulse quickens and we dance as the blossoms fall a scattering of dust to the winds this celebration of old skin

'd like to have her right down there on the floor with the old in-out - real savage." I feel the wetness of her tongue that slides across my skin The

gotta wear more hats. new is my beginning and used is my life, few are my winnings, abused is my wife. I chained chances together while hippies do acid

be the Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang I got control drop a load Time to rip shit Time to rock and roll I play the block and stroll Stop and go, cop an old up town choppin