Traduction: Dead Head. Des déchets de la peau.
Of getting past skin deep (Chorus) Guess what, another game over I got burned but you're the real loser I don't know why I've wasted my time with you
is the Devil's lacel Hey yo, the trife life is the most infuelental The colors on mens skins and pens is coincidental How ya living large you broke, you're wasting
if you gon' holler back [Beyonce] Your game is wack and no you will not get your quarter back See this is Carmen, curves like a quota sack Skin coffee
mentally dead motherfuckers We come to break y'all some information And ressurect you from the mentality of fool in this Yo, yo We come away and chop the heads
walk the dead sea Dead sea, Digi Yo, my mind keeps playin' tricks, I'm caught up in The Matrix Digital mould, your flows is all wasted You smoke weed
past skin deep Guess what, another game over I got burned but you're the real loser (hey!) I don't know why (hey!) I've wasted my time with you You
ahead toward one vicious world wide assumption a forced upon dictatorship the futures dead a blissful sensation the head tripping cave in to feel the head
to ferment Torso's torn in two Skin ripped off to expose muscle tissue Butchered for human stew Crawl into the cadaver head first Eat your way through
my pain. Hold my head as my eye explodes nothing to say No more heavy load n Im gone. Tree sways in a summer breeze the branches whip me And they make my skin
wind blew a thin layer of dust on my garden bird Everything you knew was sideways and phallic The highways traffic added to Friday's madness The warm wrinkled skin
for paint Chorus Verse Two: Sonsee Yo, I'm caught up, stuck in the tangled web Where they'd love to see me dead, mail my mom's my head So the tricolored
falling star for no hooker in a bra, that's dead You won't, roll me out, on a stretcher 'Cause my second head, led my first head into bed So baby gets
they burst How I love it when they bleed on me Fist fucking diseased anal cavities plunging blades into their skin till they've died skin desclamates
head They say old habits die hard, I say they're better off dead ?Cause you were bitter and cold but still you burned me alive You held the match to my skin
And everything it touches turns weak An antique or an eyelash stuck in your cheek The paper thin skin of a crowd chasing you Down a lost and dead-end
better off dead You'd sell your mother for a fix, boy, you're better off dead The grave beckons for the sick, boy, you're better off dead It's just
the boys in the straight-edge scene are in the basement huffing gasoline, they're Dead, dead, dead, dead their god is dead to me! And when the laws of