Lyrics

Her iron-on QR codes plastered to the bedframe. No one could find her. Bad fung shway. She stood tall like a lamp. Her height is now sluggish. There she loomed over him as if she was another QR code. Wishing she was aurora borealis. But nah, just another photo opportunity named Chalice.

Juice me like a clementine. Touch me in my yes yes square. Maybe there, there is no hair. Lappin up your nutter butter from your low waist ornament. Bob Ross sucks. Now he’s dead. No QR code, just led (i wish i could rap).

With remnants of colonic legacies on the twisted world. Your butt-face plus her sconce related shrapnel did a twirl. Wafting like a rowboat toward your anal chapel (silent but deadly). Why the fuck did a sconce explode with C4 in an apple? Scan her again.

Juice me like a clementine. Touch me in my yes yes square. Maybe there, there is no hair. Lappin up your nutter butter from your low waist ornament. Bob Ross sucks. Now he’s dead. No QR code, just led (i wish i could rap).

Let’s embark up the hill to a farm-raised dentistry. My baby teeth stapled to my back on a journey. The silver lining in it is the silver in my teeth (like mother Teresa’s mother fuckin grill). My body rolls gain momentum. You gyrate like a sea slug. We plugged upwards towards the heavens. Physics works on me too (Stop using cocaine as baby powder).

Juice me like a clementine. Touch me in my yes yes square. Maybe there, there is no hair. Lappin up your nutter butter from your low waist ornament. Bob Ross sucks. Now he’s dead. No QR code, just led (i wish i could rap).