[05:38.85
No knife in your pocket, no trick up your sleeve
Keeping my hair done until I'm replaced
Back in the playpen with drool on my face
Facing off, figuring
[06:26.37
[06:33.05
[06:38.40
[06:44.19
[06:47.41
And no one can run, and no one concedes
Blood smells like November
Bones splinter and crack
A duel to the death as the forest turns black
Falling off of the screen