This song will become the anthem of your underground. You're two floors down getting high in the back room. If I flooded out your house, do you think you'd make it out, or would you burn up before the water filled your lungs? And at your funeral I will sing the requiem. I'd offer you my hand but it would hurt to much to watch you die. And you can bet that when we mourn the death of you that night that they'll lay me on the dinner table and I will be the pig with the apple in my mouth, the food that celebrates your end.
Writer(s): Christopher Lane Conley, David Ispen Soloway, Bryan Newman, Chris Conley, David Soloway, Eben D'amico, Eben Mullen D Amico, Bryan Thomas Newman, Edward Sterling Alexander, Ted Alexander
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