Lyrics:
Mass For Guitar

How come you have three guitars? 3, 2, 1, liftoff, jetpack, shoot into space Represent the dot till were blue in the face Fre-fre-fresher than tooth-

's assassin as we die slow Perishin', brain dead from a Erickson Words are the medicine, two teaspoons for goons A cup of it for those thuggin' it, y'

can make enough money to take care of his baby here's a simple dissertation on a complex situation money and intimidation and mass graves make strong foundations for

When I grow up, gonna be a star Gonna sing my songs and play my guitar, I?m ready Gonna change the world, gonna turn the page Gonna say what I feel, let

in the line of fire And while we wait in line For our service of slow suicide Our birth control is pesticide That reigns on the 18s of society All signed up for

.O.C. are always hitting the front page For what, for stealing and stepping up to the sheriff And when I enter the party, niggas shit in a ?(cell pimp)? For

a wifebeater, find a new man And for my little sisters in the misery Sweet sixteen you ain't alone in the pregnancy I pour some liquors for my homies

and diluted, polluted trashed will crash. This prostitute music selling songs with ass, I gasp for breath, Dead Celeb pass the test. Music for a living? I can't ask for

- Christ eternal held away from me Behind a brown and ancient glaze In my collection Facets of ego Gradually eclipsing mass between the nursery and now Struggling for