Zone

Holy work, don't let me there, no, no,
the past is gone,
sweet ambrosia,
make me feel good.
(make me feel good, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(ooooh ohhh ah)

Spawns of damnation,
hallucinations of the brain.
Earn recuperations,
adulation, tank parade.
Ooh Sin City's calling,
alcohol yearning, yet again.
When I'm risking life
and my pay is 40 a day.

I feel stupid,
I gotta drink some cheap bourbon,
cheap bourbon.

Lest I think too much
about my weird morals,
weird morals.

But I'm in the zone,
there's not too much to think about now,
gravi-concentrate.

Gravi-concentrate me,
squash me to a pulp,
Make me part of your design,
hell slime.

Attempt redemption,
mourn the morning off a grave.
Ask for salvation,
pay indulgence, be a saint.
Ooh, Sin City's calling,
they want your head on a plate.
Well I'm risking life already,
I know how to play.

I can't seem to find my head, oh
where's it now,
where's it now,
where's it now,
where did I leave it,
where's it now.



Credits
Writer(s): Lorenzo Rogialli
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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