Pox

Homegrown ghosts planted with bones
Littering the roads to thrones and commodes.
Combustible codes for the doge
Calling all cults to the alley below.
Toads in the throats of the coasts
Hop about and all around, soaking in bloat.
Turf merchants making it worse,
Incurring the fervor of an earthly curse.

Coughin' air holes.
Coffins they'll close.

Toxic, noxious, nauseating
Oxygen thieves with an air of carrion meat.
Sweeping the streets with Philistines disease,
Screeching with the belief they won't be feed for the feast.
Slime and sludge of crimes of old
Percolate from the Grave Nation
To drag 'em to the gallows.
'Cause they're at the end of their rope!

Coughin' air holes.
Coffins they'll close.

Eviscerate the mess they make in this fascist state!
Misdirectomies! Child slaves of the never great!
Here comes the trouble that toils and bubbles, erupting from rubble!
And in the scuffle, (such a kerfuffle) it continues to double!

Coughin' air holes.
Coffins they'll close.

POX ON THEIR HOMES!
POX IN THEIR HOLDS!



Credits
Writer(s): Scott Baker
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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