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Battery 9
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Oil Slick Schizophrenic
come on come on
why don't you pick up that gun?
your miserable existence is no fun any more
i come to settle the score
so come on come on come on come on...
the oil slick rainbow is shouting at me
through its eyes i can clearly see
patches of land buried under scrapyards
circling mechanical voltures
scaring me taunting me yelling at me
down in the pit with bathroom reverb
too loud, distorting like my own voice
giving me the final choice:
come on come on
why don't you pick up that gun?
your miserable existence is no fun any more
time to settle the score
so come on come on come on come on...
now is the time to stop threatening
to suffocate the lie
too late now to feign suffering
too late to keep asking why
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my own reflection frustrated with hate
is yelling back at me:
this world is far too small for the two of us
it's time to set me free
come on come on come on
why don't you pick up that gun?
your miserable existence is no fun any more
time to settle the score
so come on come on come on come on...
come on come on come on...
come on come on come on
why don't you pick up that gun?
come on...
come on...
come on...
come on...
come on...
come on...
come on...
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