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lyrics

What's the sound of an airplane crash when it's filled with expectant mothers?

Is it real insanity or just the result of head injury?

Know you must earn privilege of reason, chew the cancer of ignorance 'till the whole thing falls off.

I haven't learned a single thing
From the vomit crap
That they pass off as fact
What is a mind worm?
But fatal to the muscle that it's digging through

Turn it off, tear it out, turn it off and tear it out
Turn it off tear, tear it out, turn it off.

Hold my hand 'till it goes limp upon release.

Devotion to a fake world, which I still fear so much.

I've just become a stilted soup ladle - deal a coup - crash my fucking airplane.

Burn it all - ground around it's land.
The pressure on my head - malignant piecemeal stroke
Snorting up a diet coke - toss off all exploding duds.
Pull the quarter out of the path of the sun.

Turn it off, tear it out, turn it off and tear it out (etc)

credits

from Triloby'te Bits, released February 25, 2017

tags

tags: punk New York

license

all rights reserved

about

Little King Trash Mouth New York, New York

Hi, I'm Little King Trash Mouth. I play ridiculous songs on guitar and other instruments. I've had more monikers than you can imagine. I'm the world's goshdarned cutest firebomb.

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