Synthetic Hole

Lumen skulls, helium flow, ghost out chest epithelium. Animal glands, tubes, epidermis, stress. Lenses, tissue, nerves, vessels, ganglia, flesh

As crystal sea ships approach around my castle and palace gates
Panoramic talents make great for suicides by shotgun
Splatter brain against the wall into glowing ectoplasmic paint
Now my soul looks like work by Alex Grey
Tripper to the floor, as for my corpse, they'll have it hanged
From the ceiling, photographed as still life sepia, snap in frames
Addict slang, I'm boiling eggs in piss
Writing the people this verse as I speak sitting on mattress stains
Come out the blackness like it hasn't changed
I'm washing skittles down, heliophobic letting the gas fizzle down
I'm doing this whole album sitting down, spitting, wizard gown
I heard that they demolished underground living and built a Tinsel Town, I'll have no part of it
I'm broke ass rags in a bottle
Here's my passion masked in a motto: Patriotism's trash, I'd rather burn a flag than a novel
I'll throw a batch to the hollow
Like cop killing mags to your stoppo
Flashing strobes under blood splashed on a ponto
Smash selettra typewrite electric, you can't clash with the gonzo

There's something beneath me, it's living in between me
Ripping away skin and soul, there's something trapped under my skull
There's something alive trying to climb out of this synthetic hole
[Repeat]

Slither through slug muck trail, sit in bile
The drip Hoffman raped acidics from from liquid viles
Intricate with it, descriptive vile
Bloodline Walter, human genocide, plap corpses into piles
Octopus cabinet, sifting piles
Split different personalities into synthetic integrations
Spit drifting into six distinctive styles
Touch psychedelic acrylic tiles
I got a frigid flow, torture under slow timer
Peel off your souls liner, dissect the vessel
Epidermis open, expose fibers
Supercoven toxic toad writer
Soaked in a sweat coat synthetic hole diver
I troll until I find her, after the rush I fold and bind her in telephone wire
Speak easy drone flow and blind tigers
I hold seminars with no flyers
Toaster the bathtub, razor at wrist
Bottle of scripts, open stove and lighter, explode
Leave this earthly plane, music, money, cellphone text and all
I kick literally nightmares like Berkeley undergrads pulling out uzis and shooting up lecture halls
I don't leave the house ever, surrounded by blood of stacks and leather sprawled
I take Apache propellers up to the heavens to watch blood and feathers fall
My chest pressed to walls

There's something beneath me, it's living in between me
Ripping away skin and soul, there's something trapped under my skull
There's something alive trying to climb out of this synthetic hole
[Repeat]

(I wasn't knocking someone's door down, I was running from that. When I got out, I was in that, I was already through that, I had that, I had the studio, I went to the studio, I went to Vox Studios. I had it all, and I looked at it and said, this is a bigger jail than I just got out of. I don't want to take my time going to work, I got a motorcycle and a sleeping bag, and ten or fifteen girls. What the hell I wanna go off into, and go to work for? work for what, money? I got all the money in the world. I'm the king, man, I run the underworld, guy. I decide whos does what and where they do it at. What am I, gonna run around and act like I'm some teenybopper somewhere, for somebody else's money? I make the money, man, I roll the nickels, the game is mine) [Charles Manson]