Lyrics:

'Fuckin' hate kids.'
'Dude, what?'
'Kids.'
'I know that. I remember that fuckin' time in Florida when we fuckin' farted on that one.'
Sit here
Blue light
Washed out
Borrowed
Pin me up and boil
Welcome to the wrong
Skin me...
Silent filter
Sucks in the resting
Whipping
Children
Posture frozen god
Hungry muted nations
Skin me...
It's just a feeling I have
It's like a feeling of death
You can't be in it for the cash
You must be in it for life
And if your houses I need
And if the payment is real
And if your mind is at ease
That is the death of music