me and my boy, we've been on the road, and i taste ash
my sword, my tongue, no stars, no sympathy
so mark my words, i will not be told how you feel
i don't trust you any more than i trust my self
burn the day
these three things can't be held in two hands, but never mind all that
ghost life, coast by, i'm on top of everything tonight
gold dust turns to glue in your throat, so elegantly choke
you beat this rap, but you'll still get it in the neck
burn the day