The Old Law

In my death mask and my mismatched soot
I pilate chop yore cross the stage
I met a musing gospel
In the bath, a tic mid its way
Into my read ilked brain

The drinks had martyred lunch effectively
Before I even rose to speak
Don't wanna dis-anoint the campaign, but
Jesus still lives on me
Wren free
Oh

A man's life
God's trash
There's no law but the old law, baby
Petitfour
Nothing dies
'Cept by ass drawn kamikaze
Year Zero in the summertime
Year Zero in the summertime

Pick me to sling your widdle clot bled dry
In your Matty-Mac-Beau-Harry guise
Oh, I left you for the honey
Couldn't try to you if I lied
Iffy lye

Oh, a man's life
God's trash
There's no law but the old law, baby
Petitfour
Nothing dies
'Cept by ass drawn kamikaze
God said: No
I said: Twice
C'mon, big man
Won't you make me?
Year Zero in the summertime

Year Zero in the summertime
Year Zero in the summertime

Bagmember
Slaycation
Hal Ashby
Fast fashion