Dead optics logic is out the collage
Get the polish, we’ll try and make e’m up
Grave digging heads
Something happened to his head
Must have dug out his dread’s
So what cha up to say’s the ghost next to ya
Digging graves, thoughts I must save
Tucked away is knowledge
All the way next too…
The soul-absorbing bone tower
Look in and cower
No credo can get cha geographically settled
Mettle in my metal get thrashed and slashed
Look past my guns and see roses on ya grave
Saved by nothing but a death worshipping he even
See me stealing souls like the grim reaper

Just put e’m back together like Frankenstein
Just put e’m back together like Frankenstein
Just put e’m back together like Frankenstein