Please, they're not exactly mad thrills
Coming to mend (bend) your Soul
(get the joke!)
Not exactly an ordinary fool
With butter knives that keep me cool
Armed with blazing fast ju ju,
(but not much torah torah!)
I laugh, but I gotta cry
Even when I see the good guys die
I got seriously rad mad pills
(Skills, cause poppin ain't right)
Merc-ed, thrown against The Wall
Grenade gets him out of 'em all
Pretty big blockade, red like kool-aid
(Was that a metaphor?)
In a breathing, beating land of sand and sun
Where rule is made by bombs and a gun
Where hate is an over-rated style
(Like the clothes on a hobo)
Don't they realize its a damn holy city?
That the white dove is kinda pretty
And you can't box and chain souls?
(My first Rhetorical Question...)
Its not a question of faith by the masses
Or of whose flightless angel test passes
Its about simple eye for an eye
(Or a heart for a heart?)
So I'm making karma kills
trying to stop all the negative nills
like bad things happenin' to bad people, ha!
(so what happened to all the good?)
Just got to find it
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