MIDNIGHT [Prod. Harvey Gunn]

Fade to red,
He was the sadist that would raise the dead, made to shred patience like it’s bacon on a shade of bread,
He would break-in to the basements and the vacant sheds, taking meds then replaying statements he was made to dread,
He would fade into complacence as he stayed, instead making beds as he waiting patiently to take the heads,
But their lateness was the basis of his aching legs, snaking threads of his entertainment he had made to fled

Dining swung,
As he’d try to pirate a reclining lung, highly strung, he’d deny the quiet with his shining tongue,
He was pining misalignment with the dying sun, buying guns to imply the riot of the dying young,
He would whine of the design of his desired fun, hired gun for the dire quiet of a crying nun,
He’s defiant in his siphoning of drying slums, lying dumb with a knife inside of his inspired tongue

Living in the city of the sin like,
Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like,
And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe,
Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight

Living in the city of the sin like,
Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like,
And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe,
Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight

Chasm of the void,
It’s the spasms that were damaging this droid, it would stammer as his grammar was destroyed,
Scanners were deployed through the plasm that’s enamoured with this toy, it bedazzled the assassin of his joy,
Tragic, he was buoyed by the panic, he was manic in his poise, he would vanish in the static and the noise,
Planets were destroyed in the damage of its halogens, the void was the annals of the animals of Freud

Pariah in the dust,
It’s a fire, he was dying as he must, she was crying on the pyre of his trust,
Dire in his lust, she’s a liar that inspired his disgust, she inquired of the spire that combusts,
Aspired to be just, it was prior to the fire and the dust, He was vying for the pyre to be crushed,
Desire to be mush, he was crying for the choir that was hushed as his wires were retired in a rush

Living in the city of the sin like,
Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like,
And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe,
Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight

Living in the city of the sin like,
Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like,
And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe,
Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight

Living in the city of the sin like,
Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like,
And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe,
Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight

Living in the city of the sin like,
Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like,
And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe,
Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight